Scenes from a Wedding
by atlee
Summary: A very special occasion, from very different points of view. Chapter 12 - "The Groom." And a brief epilogue, "Scenes from the Morning After."
1. The Aunt of the Bride

_I don't own "Chuck." But, I am investigating in the new "Chuck" cartoon, which will feature Chuck, Morgan, Casey, Sarah, and Anna driving around in the 'Mystery Crown Vic' catching crime-committing ghosts (with occasional appearances by the Harlem Globetrotters, who I also do not own)._

**Scenes From a Wedding**

**1. The Aunt of the Bride**

"A beautiful ceremony, wasn't it?"

General Beckman turned away from the bar, and gave the speaker a baleful look. The woman looked to be in her mid-thirties, wearing a pink dress. She smiled at the General, but didn't seem concerned when it wasn't returned.

"I'm Kelly. I'm a nurse at the hospital where the maid of honor works. How do you know the couple?"

For a moment, Beckman imagined what would happen if she answered truthfully. She could imagine the Tootsie Pop in front of her would faint in shock if she learned the real story behind the bride and groom. But, in the end, she opted for national security concerns over her own amusement.

"I'm the bride's aunt." She felt ridiculous as she said this. She couldn't believe she'd agreed to the story, but it had been plausible, and it was true that the bride needed _some_ relatives to show up to remove any suspicion.

"No kidding?" the younger woman responded. She studied Beckman for a moment. "No offense, but I don't see any resemblance."

"I'm her aunt by marriage." Beckman wasn't offended. At least, she wasn't offended by the comment. This whole ordeal offended her somewhat. She hadn't wanted to come out here. She'd always hated California.

Unfortunately for her, the couple had been insistent. Annoyingly so. Especially the groom. Beckman could only take so many phone calls, messages, and doily-laced invitations, and finally relented. So here she was, at a wedding reception. In California. She felt like she was being retaliated against for all of the tortures she'd authorized.

"You must be so proud."

The General was surprised that the other woman was still there. She took a sip from her scotch, then looked out in the crowd. Recognizing somebody, she said, "Excuse me," and walked away.

* * *

The reception hall was fairly tastefully decorated, Beckman reluctantly admitted. The late afternoon sun shone through ceiling-high windows, and the arrangements on the tables weren't too garish. The balloons she could have done without, though. The General had thought she'd heard the sound of gunfire earlier, only to disappointedly discover that it was only a small girl popping one of them.

Beckman weaved her way through the crowd, brushing aside the various wedding guests without a second thought. Everybody was milling about in different directions, a far cry from the precision she had come to expect from trained soldiers in the field. She winced at the cacophonous sound emanating from the set of speakers at the other end of the room. She wanted no part of 'Wang Chung'ing, whatever that was.

Finally, she reached her target standing at the other end of the hall. "Hello, Orion."

"Stephen," the man corrected her in an urgent whisper. Rather than his usual nebbishy appearance, Stephen Bartowski was now smartly dressed in a tuxedo. He was also glowing with happiness, which was something Beckman had never seen him do before.

"So I see you're taking advantage of the open bar," he continued with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I'll have to make do one way or another."

"Yeah, I guess this isn't your idea of fun. No violence or anything."

"Well, it's still early." She looked over at the dance floor. "Anything's better than this chaos."

Orion chuckled. "Well, I hear they're doing something called 'The Electric Slide' later. You'd like that. I hear it's very regimented." He gave the General a furtive glance. "To be honest, I'm surprise you showed at all."

"I was curious to see if this thing would actually happen."

"This thing?" Orion shook his head. "You really are taking this personally. I'll bet you can't even think of them by name. They're just two agents to you."

"One agent," the General corrected.

The General expected an angry retort from Orion, but instead he just laughed. "One would think you'd at least give him credit for bringing me back under your clutches. Isn't _one_ agent a small price to pay for that?"

Rather than respond, Beckman took a sip of her scotch. Eventually, Orion asked, "So you don't think they've earned the chance to be happy?"

"Happy?" Beckman turned her head to examine the couple. The bride looked resplendent, of course. This didn't surprise her, as the young woman's appearance had been an asset on many of her missions. The look of utter happiness on her face was something the General had never seen before, however. When Beckman had first met her, the bride seemed like somebody who derived her happiness from the satisfaction of a job well done, and in knowing she was serving her country. Beckman never would have suspected she would now wind up looking for her happiness in the arms of a computer geek.

Her eyes shifted to the groom. When she'd first seen him, he'd looked like to her like someone that should be delivering pizzas, rather than somebody to entrust with national secrets. That had been four years ago. Now, she thought, he looked like a much more confident pizza guy. Hardly somebody who could take away one of the country's finest agents.

She considered saying this to Orion, but decided against it. Instead she said, "Do you think all of these revelers know this event is making them a little less safe?"

"You don't seem to have a lot of faith in your latest recruits. Surely there will be plenty of new agents to pick up the slack?"

"Not like her."

Bartowski raised on eyebrow. "I'm surprised you feel that way. She wasn't even one of yours."

"I always thought of her as one of mine." She shrugged.

"But he was never one of yours?"

Beckman chuckled. "Thankfully, no. I'm glad you finally got that damn thing out of his head."

Orion studied her for a moment, before responding. "Did it bother you more that he exceeded your every expectation, or that he did it by doing things his own way?" Before she was able to reply, he said, "Never mind. This is one of the happiest days of my life, and I'd rather not spend it talking to you." He looked back for a moment, and then said, "You know I'm going to be a grandfather?"

"So that's why…"

"No," Orion corrected. "My daughter." After a pause, he smiled and said, "Well, one of my daughters now. So if you'll excuse me, I'd like to spend some more time with my family." He walked away, leaving Beckman looking down at her empty glass.

* * *

The General maneuvered her way back to the bar, elbowing aside a couple of overly exuberant well wishers. Finally, as she approached her destination, she recognized the man seated there.

"Another scotch," the General ordered, then turned briefly to the man beside her. "Hello, Colonel."

"General," Casey responded.

Beckman pointed to Casey's glass. "Single malt?"

"Of course."

"Good to see that not everything has gone to hell out here."

Casey grunted. "So how's the cover holding up?"

"Oh, great." Beckman wrinkled her nose and flashed a jagged grin. "I'm just so proud of my darling niece."

"Nice. Better than back before the ceremony. When somebody asks you what side you're on at a wedding, you're supposed to say the bride's or the groom's, not 'I'm on the side of the USA.' It tends to attract attention."

Beckman frowned. In the last four years, she had observed Casey go from the quintessential soldier to somebody who would let his own opinions interfere with his orders and apparently mock his superior officer. She had hoped that the end of his prior mission would change that, but the difference had been barely noticeable. Still, there had been results. "How's the pursuit?"

Casey looked around to make sure no one was in earshot. Fortunately, the bartender was still pouring the General's drink at the other end of the bar. "We've just about penetrated another Ring cell. We should be finished within the week. "Casey took a sip of his scotch. "I think we're going to get some names out of this one. Big names."

"Excellent." The bartender approached them, and handed her a glass. She carelessly tossed a twenty in his direction. "The new Intersect still working ok?"

Casey shrugged. "We get the information we need."

"But?"

"The computer works fine, but something seems to be missing. It's as if there's something…instinctual that's not there."

"And the last one had that?"

Casey looked back at the wedding party. "For better or for worse. He had his moments."

Beckman thought back to the ceremony earlier that afternoon. Casey had looked ridiculous standing up there with the midget, the frat boy, and somebody who looked like Ronald McDonald. What had surprised the General was that he had seemed more proud than embarrassed to be up there. She hoped that it was his years of experience in cover assignments that she was witnessing.

"And the new partner?"

Casey shrugged again. "Forrest does ok."

"Not as good as…" Beckman nodded to the other end of the hall.

Casey smiled briefly. "Your 'darling niece'?"

Beckman rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She took another sip of her scotch before saying, "So you don't like losing her to all of this either. Losing a gifted agent to…domestic bliss."

Casey thought for a moment before replying. "I think it's like anything else that happens. There's a good part to it, but if you look closely enough, you'll see something bad come out of it."

"So you think _this_ has a good part?" The General motioned her arm towards the hall.

"I think they deserve it. Not everybody can be a lifelong soldier like us."

Beckman agreed with that, though she was starting to doubt the 'us' part.

"I think we can figure out how to make do. This country thrived for 200 years without them, after all." Beckman noticed that Casey's eyes were looking past her as he said this.

"And just how do we do that?"

Casey's eyes were still focused behind Beckman. After a moment, he responded, "Well, normally I'd find some convenient suspect I could interrogate." He stressed the last word. "I suppose in this case, I'll have to find another way to work it out of me."

Beckman finally looked back, and saw a red-haired bridesmaid seated at a table a few feet away. He hadn't recognized her name on the program, but as she studied her, the face became familiar to the General.

"Isn't that that DEA agent, uh…Carina?"

Casey finally turned back to the General. "Hmm? Oh, right. Uh, if you'd excuse me for a bit?" The Colonel stood up, and headed off towards the other woman.

Beckman sighed, and stared down at her drink. Finally, she looked around. She hated these social gatherings. She always felt awkward standing around and talking with strangers. At work, people would only speak with her if their rank permitted it. Now she was expected to speak with any jerk that came up to her.

Between sips, she recognized Roan Montgomery standing off to one side. She was slightly surprised, but pleased, to see him there. She was about to go speak with him when she saw that he was deep in conversation with the nurse that had accosted her earlier. She was laughing, and flipped her hair to the side. Beckman shook his head. Apparently, he still had it.

The General headed back to the bar, and ordered another drink. It seemed to be the only way she could survive the chaos. It was California, after all.

* * *

If the hint of daylight peaking through the hotel curtain was enough to wake the General up the next morning, the jackhammering in her brain certainly was. She groaned, and managed to sit up. She probably shouldn't have drunk so much at the reception, but she hadn't seen any more appealing options. Now, she would have a miserable flight back to DC. But at least she would be out of this godforsaken state.

Another groan coming from the bed stopped her dead in her tracks. She quietly reached for her firearm tucked under the bed, prepared to dispatch the intruder. Another look at the bed, however, caused the memory of the previous night to rush back to her. "Oh God," she muttered.

"Hey there, sexy." The man pushed aside the covers, and pushed away the few tufts of hair from his face.

"Oh God," the General said again.

"Don't tell me you're running off," the man pulled the covers aside, and stood up. Clearly, none of his clothes had made the trip to bed with him.

"Oh…"

"Oh, c'mon, it's a little late for hard to get. Don't you want a little rematch?"

"Look, uh…"

"Jeff."

"Look, Jeff. I don't know what happened last night…"

"Amazing things. Unspeakable things."

"Oh God. Look, I have a plane to catch."

"We've got time. Come on…" he leaned forward, and the General turned away. She wished the man was a little less comfortable with his nudity.

"I'm afraid the answer is no."

"Not what you said last night." Beckman noticed that he was slurring the words, and she guessed that he was still slightly drunk. "We can make magic again. You know how I find that Opie look sexy."

The General sighed. She didn't seem to have many choices. "Really?" she asked, trying her best to sound seductive.

"Ooh, Baby." Jeff grinned as Beckman sidled up to him. Thankfully, his reflexes were slow, and he never saw the butt-end of the gun until it hit him on the back of his head.

Five minutes later, the General was dressed, packed and ready to leave. She knew her uniform looked unusually wrinkled, but she didn't have the time to fix that. She dared a quick look at the man snoring on the hotel bed, and immediately regretted it. She definitely didn't have time.

At least her trip was just about over. Fortunately, there wasn't anybody important at the reception that could have seen her actions. She would probably have to deal with Colonel Casey's newfound flippancy, but she could always demote him. As far as she knew, nobody else at the reception could be a threat to her career.

The General sighed as she shut the hotel room door behind her. She couldn't get back to her office fast enough. She really, really hated California.

_Awright, two things:_

_1) I just know this will start a boatload of "Jeckman" fanfics, right? They _are_ the real Ross and Rachel of the show, after all._

_2) This will probably be a short series, with further chapters showing the wedding from the viewpoint of various guests and members of the wedding party._

_Whaddya think, does this have any hope?. Or should I leave well enough alone?_


	2. The Wedding Singer

_I don't own "Chuck", or any of the music quoted, cited, or referenced in this story._

_Come to think of it, I don't own anything. I'm sitting in a cardboard box, writing this on the back of a fast food napkin right now…_

**II. The Wedding Singer**

"It's a travesty!"

Lester Patel's companion at Table 14 looked up in surprise. He had introduced himself as Nick, a college friend of Chuck's. This had surprised Lester somewhat, since he had assumed all of Chuck's Stanford bridges had been completely burned since the 'incident' a few years back. Rather than explain any of this, however, the Nick had devoted most of his attention to the prime rib on his plate. After giving up on getting any useful information, Lester had taken up the conversation burden himself, eventually reaching his current topic.

"Whatsat?"

Lester sighed. It was bad enough that he was relegated to such a third-rate table, but now he was being ignored by the third-rate guest. He was clearly seated at the wrong table.

Nick followed Lester's eyes to Table 1 at the other end of the hall. "You mean Chuck and Sarah?"

"No," Lester responded, though he had to admit that the pairing was one he was still amazed by. Instead he pointed over to the DJ table across the room.

"Ah. Not a fan of the music?" The other guest briefly returned his attention to his plate before adding, "I've heard worse. It's not like we've heard the Chicken Dance or anything like that."

"That is not the point. It's so…impersonal." As if on cue, the next song, the latest hit by the Black Eyed Peas, burst through the speakers.

"What, Chuck doesn't like hip-hop?"

Lester looked at him in surprise. He could hardly picture Chuck as a hip-hop fan.

"Not really. But I doubt Sarah let him pick the music." Three hours of wispy indie rock at a wedding reception would have been horrible.

"Still, to settle for this when you could have had live music, it's just sad."

"Live music? You mean like a band?"

"Exactly like a band."

Nick looked at Lester with a little more interest. "You're in a band?"

Lester stared past the other man for a moment, before finally replying after an appropriate lapse of time. "I was."

"No kidding. I used to do a bit of singing myself. I was in the a capella group at Stanford, the Treetones."

Lester gave the other man a confused look. He could have sworn the Stanford a capella group was called the Counterpoints. He'd have to consult his CD collection when he got home.

"Well that's nice." Lester took a quick sip of his beer. "But Jeffster, we were good." Lester continued. "We were great, actually."

"Jeffster? Never heard of it. How many albums did you guys do?"

"Well, you clearly don't travel in the right musical circles," Lester responded. "We were more of a live band anyway. A recording could never capture our energy. We actually did the last Bartowski wedding."

"Oh?"

"Yup. And let me say after we finished, nobody could talk about anything else. The two of us were on that night."

"Two of you? You were just a duo?"

"There may have only been two of us, but we could put out a mighty wall of sound like no trio, or even quartet, could. We were legends of our time."

"So what happened?" Nick asked, somewhat reluctantly.

Lester took a carefully timed bite of his chicken before continuing. "It's the same story you hear in all of those 'Behind the Music' specials."

"Your bandmate slept with your girlfriend?"

"Creative differences," Lester corrected, somewhat forcefully. "We had different visions of where the band should go."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I wanted to push us to greater levels of rock superstardom, and my partner…well he discovered country music." Lester shook his head. "I never should have taken him to that line dancing bar."

"So…that's it?"

"That's it? Yeah, isn't that enough?"

"Well, you could go solo. You know, like David Lee Roth, or Beyonce."

"Solo, but I…"

"Sure you could." The Stanforder glanced at his watch. "Um…if you'll excuse me, I've got to, uh, hit the head." He stood up, and walked away. Lester waved him away dismissively. He must be drinking a lot, as he'd been going to the bathroom every half hour.

The idea of going solo was tempting, and it would certainly show Jeff that he didn't need him. But the idea of going out there alone wasn't something he was quite comfortable with.

* * *

The Black Eyed Peas song ended, and was quickly replaced by another Top 40 selection. Lester shook his head. He didn't see himself as a solo act, but at least he could do something about the music on right now. Plus, he knew he'd have to get to the DJ before Jeff did. He'd heard him say something about "Friends in Low Places" earlier, and Lester couldn't let that happen.

Lester left the table and walked across the dance floor to the DJ table. He briefly complimented himself that he only took a couple of seconds to stare at the red-haired bridesmaid standing off to one side. She certainly did more for the color green than any of his Buy More co-workers ever did. And if he had been seated at a decent table instead of being relegated to Table 14, he definitely would stop to talk to her. He still couldn't figure out why he couldn't at least rate a spot among the groomsmen. He'd have to talk to Chuck about that.

The DJ, a young man of about 25 dressed in an ill-fitting tuxedo, nodded as Lester approached. "Got a request?" he asked, "I've got a couple of songs lined up and then somebody requested Wang Chung a moment ago, but after that I should be able to fit you in."

"Hmm," Lester replied, pointing at the various binders of CDs. "Mind if I have a look?"

"Knock yourself out." The DJ returned to his earlier activity of bobbing his head vaguely in time with the music.

Lester flipped through the first couple of binders, but didn't see anything that caught his fancy, though he imagined the older wedding guests would be thrilled. He then noticed a red binder in a box off to one side, and started looking through that one, before one CD caught his eye.

"Hold on," the DJ said, his attention returned to Lester. "Those aren't for requests. Those are for the karaoke club later tonight."

"No kidding?"

"Yeah, so put that away."

"Well I think a little _live_ music would really get this party going."

The DJ sighed. "Look man, I don't want any trouble here. I just want to get paid, and pissing off the wedding party isn't going to make that happen."

"Ah." Lester reached into his pocket, and produced a twenty. He waved it in front of the DJ. "I think I can help you with that." He knew the twenty was a lot of money, but he figured he could always sneak one out of Morgan's wallet later in the night.

The DJ gave the bill a dismissive look. "Yeah, I don't think so, bud."

"What, is my money not good enough for you?" Lester walked to the other side of the booth, and reached for the microphone. "C'mon, all I'm asking for is one song."

"Is there a problem here?"

Lester turned at the sound of the stern-sounding female voice, and found Eleanor Bartowski staring at him.

"Oh, uh…" Lester had heard a rumor that Chuck's sister was knocked up, and he had a feeling that he didn't want to get on the wrong side of her hormones right now.

"No problem here," the DJ sounded a bit nervous too, "just a bit of a misunderstanding."

Ellie glanced at the red binder and then the microphone. "Wait a minute. Are you thinking of… Not a chance!" Ellie grabbed Lester's arm, and began to drag him away from the booth. "Don't you think ruining one Bartowski wedding is enough?"

"Well I think that's a bit of revisionist history there. I'd say that wedding was ruined already before…" One look from Ellie and Lester clammed up.

"I don't care about your sick need for stardom Lester, this is my brother's wedding, and I am going to make sure that you don't do anything to mess it up." She leaned in to him, and Lester unwittingly took a step back.

"Um, Ellie?"

Both Lester and Ellie turned to see the face of Sarah Walker Bartowski looking back at them inquisitively.

"Everything's ok, dear," Ellie said. "But you might want to step back. We don't want any bloodstains getting on your dress."

Ellie smiled, but reached her hand out to the binder that Lester was clutching. "May I?"

"Um, ok." Lester handed the binder to Sarah and she looked through it for a moment.

"Which one?" she finally asked.

"Uh, Sarah?"

"It's ok, Ellie, I'm just asking."

Lester reached over, and pointed out one of the CDs. "Track 3."

Sarah raised her eyebrow. "Really? I always loved that song as a kid!"

"Sarah, what are you doing? Don't you remember what happened at my wedding?"

Sarah smiled at her sister-in-law. "Don't worry, nothing can ruin this day for me. And besides, it might be fun." She turned to Lester. "Just don't screw it up." The sudden shift in her tone reminded Lester of an incident at the Weinerlicious a few years back, and he gulped. He seemed to be afraid of a lot of women. He never understood why that was.

Lester walked back to the booth, and took the microphone from the DJ, who just shrugged. "If you're sure," he said to Sarah, who nodded. He removed the disk from the binder sleeve, and plugged it in. "The floor's yours. You're on your own with the lyrics, though."

"That's alright, I know them by heart." Lester swallowed, and waited for the song to cue up. The sound of the drum machine burst through the speakers, and he awkwardly positioned himself in front of the booth. Finally, the point of his entrance arrived.

* * *

"_Jungle life_

_I'm far away from nowhere_

_On my own like Tarzan Boy_

_Hide and seek_

_I play along while rushing cross the forest_

_Monkey business on a sunny afternoon"_

Lester noticed that most of the people in the hall had stopped moving, and were now staring at him. He saw a few people giggle as he sang. Well that couldn't be helped, he thought to himself. There are philistines in every group.

"_Jungle life_

_I'm living in the open_

_Native beat that carries on_

_Burning bright_

_A fire the blows the signal to the sky_

_I sit and wonder does the message get to you"_

Sarah had returned to the head table, and was now motioning towards Chuck. The groom was looking back and forth between Lester and Sarah, his face betraying a combination of confusion, embarrassment, and amusement. Finally he relented, and Sarah led him to the middle of the room.

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

Sarah was now dancing, a big grin on her face. Lester couldn't tell from across the room, but it seemed like she was singing along. Chuck still looked confused, and was doing his best to keep up with her.

_Night to night_

_Gimme the other, gimme the other chance tonight_

_Gimme the other, gimme the other_

_Night to night_

_Gimme the other, gimme the other world_

Several other people had joined the bride and groom on the dance floor, and were moving along to the song. Despite his earlier confidence, Lester couldn't believe what was happening.

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

_Jungle life_

_You're far away from nothing_

_It's all right_

_You won't miss home_

_Take a chance_

_Leave everything behind you_

_Come and join me_

_Won't be sorry_

_It's easy to survive_

Almost everybody seemed to be enjoying the performance, with a couple of exceptions. John Casey was watching in stunned silence, and Lester could see the woman who had been introduced as Sarah's aunt scowling back at him. Lester quickly looked away and his eyes finally found Jeff, who was watching in fascination.

_Jungle life_

_We're living in the open_

_All alone like Tarzan Boy_

_Hide and seek_

_We play along while rushing cross the forest_

_Monkey business on a sunny afternoon_

Jeff was now pumping his fist in excitement. Lester nodded to him. If he wasn't mistaken, Jeffster would be reuniting very soon.

_Night to night_

_Gimme the other, gimme the other chance tonight_

_Oh Yeah_

_Night to night_

_Gimme the other, gimme the other_

_Night to night_

_You won't play_

Lester finished the song, and was met with appreciative applause. The room seemed to be buzzing. Clearly, he knew how to be the life of the party. He turned around to see Ellie looking at him, with her arms crossed. "Not bad," she admitted. "Now relinquish the microphone."

"Are you sure? I'd be happy to do an encore."

Ellie cleared her throat meaningfully, and Lester sighed and handed her the microphone. It didn't matter. There would be plenty more performances in his future.

_I know the song ('Tarzan Boy' by Baltimora) doesn't quite fit within Lester's musical oeuvre, but I wanted something that was, well, ridiculous. _

_Stay tuned for more perspectives on the happy day!_


	3. The Broinlaw

_I don't own 'Chuck.' I had my chance, but my proposed episode of Ellie and Casey debating health-care reform was quickly rejected by the network._

**III. The Bro-in-law**

"Honey?"

Devon Woodcomb looked over at his wife, who was giving him an innocent, guileless look. "Yeah, babe?"

"Could you get me another bananas foster?"

Devon quickly sucked down his sigh. As a father-to-be, he had to accept certain impositions. Fetching his wife's fourth dessert for the night, for example. He couldn't understand why Chuck and Sarah had needed so many dessert stations at the reception. He tried to convey this question silently to his brother-in-law, but Chuck innocently looked away.

"I _am_ eating for two, remember?" Ellie reminded him.

"Eating for two counties, maybe," Devon mumbled.

"What's that?"

"Uh, I said that maybe I could find you some brownies too."

"That's ok," Ellie said cheerfully. "I'll get some of those later."

Meaning he'd be getting them later, Devon thought to himself as he strode over to the side of the ballroom. Not that he minded doing things for wife, of course. But things had been gnawing at him for the past few weeks.

He was excited to be a father, of course. It had been something he'd always wanted to be.

Still, he never thought he'd be so scared about it. He supposed that was only natural. But, in the last year, he'd learned more than he'd cared to about the frightening things that go on in the world. Having a brother-in-law, and now sister-in-law, who were spies will do that to you. There's something about meeting more than one machete-wielding assassin that make you wonder about bringing a child into the world.

Devon had always considered himself to be braver than most. On more than one occasion, Ellie had called him reckless. But his rock-climbing outings were nothing like what Chuck and Sarah did on a routine basis. He always checked the equipment to make sure everything was safe, and nobody could tie a tighter knot than him. These were things he could control. But recently he'd gained an appreciation of how many things there were in the world that he couldn't.

He hadn't mentioned his fears when Ellie had told him the news a couple of weeks ago. He couldn't, since she didn't know the truth about her brother. Chuck and Sarah were too wrapped up in wedding preparations to talk to, but they were hardly the experts on parenting anyway. He could only talk to his own father in broad generalities, and that conversation only ended in a terse suggestion that he 'Man up.' He had even tried talking to John Casey, but the look he'd been returned had only made him miss the machete-wielding assassins.

Having reached the table, Devon grabbed a bowl and waited patiently for the waiter to finish his conversation with the man standing in front of him. Finally, he looked up and nodded as Devon handed him the empty bowl. The other man glanced briefly to his side. He was an older, distinguished-looking man. He was overdressed, as the tuxedo was hardly necessary for someone who wasn't in the wedding party, but Devon had to admit that he wore it well.

"The perfect food," The older man said.

"Excuse me?"

"Bananas foster. The perfect food. Exoticism, danger, and alcohol, all together in one food. Dessert should be an experience, not comfort food." He waved a dismissive hand at the carrot cake at the next table.

Devon simply nodded at this statement.

The older man held out his hand. "Roan Montgomery."

Devon shook his hand. "And how do you know Chuck or Sarah?"

"Oh I'm an old friend of Sarah's."

In the past year, Devon had come to figure out that Sarah didn't have any old friends. He leaned in and whispered, "So you're a … S. P. Y?"

Roan chuckled. "I suppose you could say that. And I guess you just did. Most enemy agents can spell, you know."

Devon looked down, embarrassed.

"So you must be the brother-in-law who stumbled upon the truth. You've been quite the nuisance, you know. I hear they've had to create all sorts of new paperwork to deal with you."

"Well, I'm not exactly happy about that."

"No? You subscribe to the 'ignorance is bliss' code?" Roan followed Devon's gaze back to the head table. "Ah. That glowing young lady must be your wife. Congratulations on your impending arrival.

"Oh, thank you. Did somebody tell you about it?" Devon had only told immediate family so far.

"Oh, I've learned to recognize the warning signs of pregnancy. First kid?"

Devon nodded. "You?"

"Four, actually."

"Wow, so you know what to expect with the whole…"

"Pregnancy thing? Actually, I've tended to be…out of the country for that part."

"Oh, they sent you on missions?"

"Right," Roan responded after a barely noticeable pause.

Devon didn't seem to notice. The waiter handed the bowl back to him, and as he was about to return to the table he turned back to the older man. "Can I ask you something?"

"Does it involve national secrets?"

"No."

"Then be my guest."

"How can you go day to day, knowing everything that you do?"

"Well, I have my coping mechanisms." Roan gave the younger man a once-over. "But those probably aren't for you, right now. He thought for a moment. "You're scared about having a kid?"

"All these dangers I never thought about," Devon admitted. "Knowing people are out there who wouldn't hesitate to hurt you, how can I keep my kid safe?"

Roan nodded. "There are a lot of less-than-upstanding types out there. But you can't think like that." After a pause, "Charles tells me you're a doctor."

Devon nodded.

"Well, you must see evidence of every imaginable freak accident possible on your job, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"So do you fixate on that?"

"Well, no." The man who'd come into the ER with a salad fork stuck in his ear last month hadn't kept him from eating.

"So you have to think of it like that. You do what you can to keep your family safe, and trust that there are people out there that do their part too. Just like you do your part as a doctor. You can't control everything, but there are a lot of people out there controlling a little bit, and that adds up."

Devon nodded. It did make some sense.

"Now that we've cemented our bond in this scary world, why don't you join me in a drink."

Devon was tempted, but he could see that Ellie was getting impatient back at the table. "Uh, some other time."

"No problem. I see there is a young lady over there in need of some company."

Devon recognized the young woman standing by the bar.

"You mean the one talking to Sarah's aunt?"

Roan chuckled. "Right, her aunt. Not much of a resemblance, is there? Do you know the young lady?"

"That's Kelly, one of the nurses from the hospital."

"A nurse. That's excellent. Very excellent indeed. If you'll excuse me…"

"I think she's single," Devon commented, but from the dismissive wave Roan gave, he guessed that bit of information wasn't particularly important to him.

"About time," Ellie said as Devon plopped the bowl in front of her. "Who was that you were talking to?" she said between mouthfuls.

"That was…uh, and old friend of Sarah's family." Sarah looked up questioningly, and Devon nodded toward the bar. She looked over and nodded, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Oh yeah, he's quite a character," Chuck commented.

"I'm surprised you found somebody who actually likes to talk," Ellie commented, briefly putting down her spoon. "It's so nice to finally get to meet some of your family and friends, Sarah, but they don't really seem like the sharing type. They're all a bit…stand-offish."

"Well, we're a bit reserved, I guess."

"Almost secretive, I'd say," Ellie said before taking another spoonful of bananas foster. "You don't have a bunch of spies in your family, do you?"

Seeing the surprise in Chuck's and Sarah's eyes, Devon realized he needed to act quickly. He grabbed his spoon and banged it against his water glass. A encouraging whoop roared from the room, and Chuck flashed a quick, slightly embarrassed smile.

"Ah, how sweet," Ellie said, after the kiss ended. "Aren't you a big softie," she said to her husband.

"Yup, that's me."

The DJ at the booth began playing a slow song, and Devon watched his brother-in-law lead his new sister-in-law to the dance floor. Ellie sighed.

"Everything ok, babe?"

"I love this song, but the idea of getting on my feet just doesn't appeal right now."

"I guess we'll just have to sit here and watch then."

Ellie leaned over and put her head on Devon's shoulder. He put his arm around her, lowering his hand until it touched her belly.

"I can't wait," he whispered.

Ellie looked up and smiled. "It's going to be awesome?"

Devon smiled back. "Maybe not always, but I'm excited anyway."

Ellie sighed. "Me too."

After they sat there for a while, she said, "Devon?"

"Hmm?"

"About those brownies."

_I hope folks like these interconnected scenes. It's kind of like 'Pulp Fiction' but with more bouquets and fewer hypodermic needles. Please review, and let me know if this premise works or not._


	4. The Father of the Bride

_I don't own "Chuck" but maybe I could con NBC out of it..._

**The Father of the Bride**

The entrance to the church remained quiet. Most of the guests had entered by now, as the ceremony was only a half hour away from starting. Or at least that was the story.

A man in a priest's collar stepped outside for a moment. He looked around furtively, raised his arm, and began speaking into his wrist watch.

Most people would find this somewhat unpriestly action surprising. Jack Burton, however, was not most people. In fact, this was exactly what he had expected to see. Once again, he considered the ramifications of what he was going to do. Then he opened the car door, stepped out, and grabbed the cello from the back seat.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Father."

The priest's eyes immediately narrowed, but relaxed when he saw the suit-clad man lugging a large case towards him.

"Ah, hello."

"I don't suppose I could trouble you for a hand." Jack gestured towards the door.

"Of course, of course." The priest opened the door to the church.

"I trust the others are here?"

"Uh, I believe so."

Jack gave the other man a friendly shrug. "I'm always running late. I knew I should have listened to my mother when she suggested the piccolo." He walked through the door, and paused only a second to give the man a friendly wave as the door was closing behind him. It was too easy.

The key was to always look like you belong. Most people always assumed the best, so not giving them any reason to think otherwise was vital. This rule apparently included young government agents disguised as priests. If he had the time, Jack could give him some pointers.

He looked around to make sure that nobody was in the hallway. Off to one side, he could hear the sound of string instruments warming up, so he turned and headed in the other direction. He found a closet and shoved the cello in there. He didn't need somebody to see him with the cello and starting making requests. Years back, he'd successfully pretended to be the bass player for Kansas for two months. But the cello player in a string quartet is much more exposed, and would be a lot tougher to fake.

He found a stairwell at the end of the hallway, and quietly climbed upwards. At the end, he could hear women's voices. He paused momentarily as he realized that he'd reached his destination. He'd known it would be a risk to come here, but it hadn't really mattered. He'd had no choice.

* * *

"How're you doing there, Sarah? You almost set?" The voice, female, was unfamiliar to Jack.

"Almost." He immediately recognized his daughter's voice. After a pause, "Everything's still ok, right Ellie?"

"Sure, there's just a bit of a hold up with the string quartet," the first voice responded. "Uh, Anna, could you go down and check on things?"

Before Jack could find a place to hide, a short Asian woman in a green dress walked out of the room down the hall. She gave him a speculative glance. "Should you be up here?"

"Uh, yeah, I was just looking for the bathroom."

"Oh, well, you're going to want to go back downstairs and go back the way you came. You're totally looking in the wrong place." The Asian woman walked down the stairs.

Jack sighed. He'd been off his game there, and had been slow to invent a response. He briefly considered following the woman's directions and leaving the church altogether.

However, the voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.

"Excuse me?"

Jack turned to find two women studying him intently. The brunette was in a green dress like the Asian, and was eyeing him with concern. She seemed to have an officious manner about her that reminded him of either a doctor or a kindergarten teacher.

He almost didn't recognize the second woman. While many of the con job he'd dragged her on years ago had involved dressing up in various disguises, a wedding dress had never been one of them. It had been a long time since he'd even imagined her in a bridal gown. Even those vague memories didn't prepare him for how beautiful she looked.

"Dad?"

The second woman's wary expression was replaced with one of confusion, and she turned to the bride. "Your dad? I thought you said…"

"It's complicated," the bride responded.

"Where have I heard that before?" The brunette studied the other two for a moment, before saying "Maybe I should go and help Anna out there."

As soon as the other woman headed down the stairs, Jack followed Sarah (he still had trouble with that name) into the other room.

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, Sarah turned to Jack. "What are you doing here?"

"It takes more than the lack of an invitation to keep me from your wedding."

"Dad, I didn't… I don't even know how to contact you!"

"Of course you do." He gave her a pointed look. "I raised you to be resourceful. Plus, I know who your friends are."

Sarah studied him for a moment. "Then you know why it was stupid to come here."

"I considered it. I even thought that maybe this was all some elaborate ruse to get to me."

Sarah stared at her father before smiling briefly. "Dad, I hate to say it, but you're not really that important to the people I worked for."

Jack tried not to let that hurt. "So then this is for real. You're really marrying that Chet?"

"It's Chuck, Dad. And yes, I am." Sarah stood up, her arms enfolded defiantly.

She still has her mother's spirit, Jack thought to himself, before his thoughts returned to what she had just said. "You said, 'the people you worked for.' So you quit? That new self defense class gig, that's legit?"

Sarah nodded.

Jack gave his daughter a searching look. "Are you sure about this? I admit I don't know exactly what you've been involved with, and I'm not exactly sure how I feel about you being in law enforcement, but I could tell you were…important. Are you sure you want to throw it all away?"

"I don't think I'm throwing anything away, Dad. You don't know anything about what I was doing."

"No. But I'd like to think I didn't raise a quitter."

"No, you raised me to be a liar and a thief." Sarah paced back and forth across the room. "You're right that I was doing things that were important. And I'm proud of a lot of what I accomplished. But in many ways, I was doing exactly the same things you taught me to do. I didn't know how to be honest anymore, to other people or to myself. I really was my father's daughter, even if I was working for a different side. I was conning people again. And I can't do that anymore."

Sarah stopped to look at herself in the mirror. "Chuck could look through everything, all the lies and the walls I put up, and see me. Nobody has ever done that. And he could love me for me, not some part I was playing." She turned around again to look at Jack. "I'm sorry if it seems to you like I'm compromising myself by marrying Chuck. But I'm not. I'm finally getting to be myself. Not some agent, or your accomplice. Just somebody who can live her life with the man she loves."

Jack stood there for a while before replying. "I've always loved you for you too, you know, as hard as that is to believe. I may not have always been there for you, but that was because of the life I dragged us into, not because of you. And I _am_ happy for you." He approached his daughter, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "And you look incredibly beautiful today. Just like your mother."

Jack reached into his pocket. "I can't offer you much today, but I thought you might like to wear this." He handed her the pendant he was holding.

"Dad?"

"I didn't steal it! Honest. It was your mother's. I hope your Chuck will be a better husband to you than I was to her."

Sarah looked away for a moment, as if to hide the tears that Jack could see anyway. Finally, she said, "Dad, you have to go. Despite what I said earlier, the people here will recognize you, and they'll arrest you."

"I think, given the circumstances, I might have to take my chances. I haven't always been much of a father, but I think I have an important duty today."

The door opened, and the brunette returned. "Everything ok here?"

"Of course," Jack replied without turning away from Sarah. "I was just telling my daughter how beautiful she looks, and how proud I am of her."

Sarah rolled her eyes, and whispered, "Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you?" but Jack could tell that she was pleased.

The brunette didn't seem to notice this, and her brief smile had changed to a more serious expression. "Sarah, don't be alarmed, but we've got a slight delay. The cellist is missing. Apparently he showed up a few minutes ago, and then vanished. Why is it always the musicians who screw up weddings?" she grumbled.

"That's ok, Ellie," Sarah said. "I'm sure he'll turn up soon." She gave her father a pointed look.

"Well it doesn't matter now, we've got a replacement coming, so it shouldn't be too much longer." She looked at Jack. "Mr. Walker, can I take you to your seat?"

Sarah gave him a concerned look, but he ignored her. "Of course. Maybe I can get a chance to wish my future Schnook-in-law congratulations when I get the chance."

* * *

"Schnook-in-law?"

Jack was following the brunette down the stairs after briefly hugging his daughter.

"Uh, yeah, a bit of a private joke."

"Ah. Well I'm actually the schnook's sister."

"Oh, well I didn't mean…"

"Actually, it fits pretty well." She gave him a conspiratorial look. "Do you mind if I use it?"

"Be my guest."

"Thanks." They walked down the hallway, and Jack could hear the low rumble of the gathering crowd. Ellie turned to him. "I'm glad you're here, Mr. Walker."

"Please, I won't answer to Mr. Walker. Call me Jack."

The brunette smiled. "Ok, Jack. You know, my dad almost didn't make it to my wedding, and it would never have been the same."

"No, I can imagine it wouldn't have."

"This will work out better. Having Sarah's aunt give her away just seemed odd to me."

"Sarah's aunt?"

The brunette stopped. "Yeah, your sister, right? She was stepping in."

Jack nodded. "Right. Well, I'm here now."

Ellie smiled again as they reached the chapel. "Well, you can just have a seat by her, and you'll have a great view of the ceremony."

Jack paused. The pews were at least half full, and he had no idea who Ellie was gesturing towards. "I have to admit, I haven't seen her in a while. I'm, uh, not sure if that's really her color."

Ellie chuckled. "Well, I have to say I've never seen somebody wearing black to a wedding before."

Jack nodded in relief. There was only one woman in black in the room. "Yeah, it's another family joke."

* * *

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?"

"I do."

Jack sat back down in the pew, his mission now complete. Now all there was to do was watch his daughter and future son-in-law recite their vows.

Once the ceremony was complete, he slowly stood back and looked around for a convenient exit. "Don't think you're getting away," he heard a voice next to him say quietly.

Jack turned to study the older woman that Ellie had referred to as Sarah's aunt. She was, of course, here in some official capacity. Her demeanor suggested that she took no pleasure in the event.

"Aren't you at least going to let me go to the reception?"

"Were you invited?" the woman raised her eyebrow.

"I'm sure they'll make an exception for me, right Sis?" Jack smiled.

The woman stared at him. "You know, it's amazing how far she went with a father like you."

Jack took a minute before responding. "I know."

They stood up, and Jack immediately found a rather large, burly man put a meaty hand on his shoulder. "Ah, this must be…Cousin Johnny?"

"Funny. Let's go."

Jack scanned around for options. He could see a crowd accumulate by the exit.

"What about the receiving line? Surely you won't deny the guests the chance to congratulate us? Wouldn't that seem rude, and suspicious?" He placed more emphasis on the last word, assuming it would carry more weight than the first.

The woman sighed. "Fine. But don't imagine you're going anywhere."

Jack took his place in line, and was soon was surrounded in a sea of handshakes. However, two of his "nephews" were always standing behind him, so his options remained limited. Finally, the crowd began to thin. He was preparing to face the inevitable when he saw Ellie and a tall blonde man approach him.

"Congratulations, Jack," Ellie smiled. "I'd like you to meet my husband, Devon."

"Listen," Jack said after he'd shaken the other man's hand, "I don't happen to have a map to the reception hall, and my sister already has a full car with my two nephews here. I don't suppose I could travel along with you folks?"

"Of course, Jack," Ellie said.

Before the woman could respond, Ellie took Jack's arm and led him away. He knew he wasn't free yet, but at least he'd be able to attend his daughter's wedding reception, and share in her happiness for a little while longer. Escape could wait.

***

_We'll seem more of Jack's story later on. However, next will be…'The Best Man.'_


	5. The Best Man

_Funny, I've got one story going that's a bunch of movie spoofs, and yet this one has the chapter titles that are movie names. I guess it goes to show that there are a lot of movies about weddings out there._

_I actually extended the timeline of this one beyond the wedding (though only slightly). It's this blatant disregard for the rules that explains why I don't own Chuck. That and my blatant lack of the necessary funds._

**The Best Man**

"God, what is that stuff?"

Morgan turned to see the scowling face of John Casey staring at his glass.

"It's grape schnapps." He raised the glass and swirled it around. "It's like the world's most perfect drink, and then they added alcohol. Want a sip?"

"I'd rather shave my legs with hedge clippers."

"Ok." Then after a pause, "That's a no, right?"

Casey didn't respond, as he had already turned to the bartender to order a schnapps-free drink. Morgan returned to carefully scrutinizing the index cards in his hand. He began flipping through them frantically, before they all slipped out of his hands and floated down towards the floor.

Morgan sighed, and leaned down to pick up the cards. He couldn't believe he was so clumsy. He finally retrieved most of the cards, until he saw one leaning by Casey's foot. Casey had seen it as well, and was eyeing it warily. Finally, he leaned down and grabbed it, giving it a quick glance as he did. His eyes narrowed.

"Grimes. What is this?"

"That's, uh, for my speech tomorrow. I figured, rehearsal dinner, perfect time to rehearse right?"

Casey frowned, then snatched the other index cards from Morgan's hands. "What the hell is this?"

Morgan peeked over at the card Casey was holding. "Oh, that's a joke. I got it from one of Jeff's joke books, but I had to change the punchline a bit." He wasn't _that_ much of an idiot. He knew saying the original punchline in front of Chuck and Sarah's families would have been a disaster.

"Grimes, this is terrible. You can't say any of this."

"Hey, I have to say something. As the best man, it's my sacred duty to give the toast."

"Best man," Casey mocked. "Like either of those words fits you."

"That hurt, man. But I know it's just the jealousy talking."

"Jealous? Of you? Why, because it takes you an extra minute to get wet when it rains?"

"Oh, come on. I know you've been sidling up to Chuck in hopes to get this gig ever since he got engaged. But Chuck and I have been friends, partners, heterosexual lifemates since grade school. You, I'm not even sure why you cracked the groomsman list. Devon, he's Chuck's bro-in-law, and even Skip I can kind of get, but you? Do you even like him?"

"There are times when he isn't that much of a moron," Casey admitted.

Morgan shook his head. "And you're worried about me giving the speech? I think I'll seek my advice elsewhere."

He grabbed his note cards from Casey, then was about to walk away before he quickly turned around.

"Barkeep, another grape schnapps, por favor."

* * *

As much as Morgan hated to admit it, Casey was right. He knew he was out of his depth. He'd only given a few speeches in his life, and most of those had involved describing how he'd spent his summer vacation. And since his summer vacations were usually devoted entirely to video games, those speeches tended to be short. Still, Chuck was always around during those summers, so maybe there was something he could use there. Certainly more than the presentation he'd given about reading "The Lord of the Flies."

Morgan looked over to where Chuck and Sarah were talking with his father. They certainly did look happy. And he was very excited for them. Sure, this would mean the end of an era, as the house they had just bought probably wouldn't have a 'Morgan door.' And the video game marathons would probably be replaced with curtain shopping expeditions, cooking classes, Meg Ryan movie nights, and whatever else married couples do. And, As Anna had succinctly put it right before their most recent break-up, he did not understand what couples do.

It was obvious that Chuck was happy, and he was happy for Chuck. But putting that into words? Clearly, Morgan needed help.

He found his next ghost-writing candidate at the buffet table. Devon Woodcomb gave him a brief nod as he approached. "How's it going, little buddy?"

"Not too bad." Morgan glanced at the large stack of roast beef and gravy on the plate. "Leave some for the rest of us?"

"This is for Ellie. She's, uh, hungry."

"Huh. How does somebody that lithesome pack away so much food?"

Devon looked like he was about to retort, but eventually his face relaxed. "How're the Best Man duties going?"

"Struggling a bit with the toast, actually."

"Ah. Well, you just gotta remember to write from the heart."

"That's it, that's all you've got?"

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Something I could use, like picture your audience in their underwear."

"I don't think that actually works." Devon paused, his eyes narrowed. "And if I see you staring at my wife during the toast, you and I are going to have words."

"Well, I need something." Morgan was beginning to feel desperate.

"No gimmicks, Morgan. Just remember, you've known the Chuckster longer than anyone other than Ellie. Focus on that."

Morgan shook his head as he walked away from the buffet. Devon hadn't told him what to say, or given him a way out of the speech. Really, he couldn't see what Ellie saw in him. But at least he'd gotten some roast beef.

* * *

Morgan gulped when he saw the bridesmaids huddled together. Nothing good could result from Anna talking with his former love and his ex. He figured he needed to break this up. "Excuse me, ladies," he said, approaching them.

Ellie gave him a brief look, and frowned. "You're an idiot, you know that Morgan." She then glanced down at his plate, and took a forkful of his roast beef before walking away.

The second bridesmaid gave him a brief, vaguely uninterested look. "Hello, uh, Martin, right?"

"Morgan."

"Ok. Excuse me," she said as she walked away. Morgan wasn't offended; clearly Carina had to have been drunk to forget his name.

Anna, meanwhile, barely looked at him. "What?" she finally said.

"Aw, c'mon, Anna. Don't tell me you're still mad."

"Mad? Of course I'm still mad. I broke up with you, remember."

"Yeah, but you always break up with me. Then we get back together. It's nothing to get mad about."

"Morgan," Anna said in exasperation. "You're never going to get it. You don't stick with anything. You gave up on being a Benihana chef, then you gave up on writing that screenplay…"

"Hey, I haven't given up on that. I just need to figure out how to get the two aliens into the Supreme Court hearing."

"Whatever. I can't sit around for you to give up on us."

"But that's the one thing I _haven't_ given up on. I'm still here."

"Right, and you're always going to be here. You're holding me back, Morgan."

Morgan looked at her. She really seemed serious this time. "There isn't any chance?

"No, Morgan."

"Not even the teensiest bit of a chance."

She gave him a hard look, before finally softening slightly. "Ok, fine." She looked around the room. "I promise to take you back if…" She heard a loud belching sound, and turned to the bar. "If Jeff has sex tomorrow night."

"Hey like those odds!"

"With another person."

Morgan groaned. He didn't like the odds anymore.

* * *

Morgan nervously flipped through his cards. He'd spent the last day trying to finish the speech, but he'd complete blank, and now there was no time left. Chuck and Sarah were married, the reception had started, and it was almost time for the best man to give the toast. He thought about hiding under the table, but sitting at the head table made this a bit difficult.

He looked over to see Chuck looking at him in concern. "You nervous, buddy?"

"Well, um…"

"Look, Morgan, don't worry about the speech. I know how you hate public speaking, so quick and to the point will be fine. Just relax, cause you know I'll be there for you, no matter what you say." Behind him, Sarah put an arm on Chuck's shoulder and smiled.

Morgan nodded in relief. He was ready now.

* * *

Morgan stood up as the DJ handed him the microphone. "Hello, everybody, my name is Morgan Grimes, best man. And yes, to answer your question, this _is_ me standing."

There was some polite laughing from the various guests.

Morgan pointed to Chuck. "I have been this man's best friend since the second grade. So, as you can imagine, I can tell you some stories, hoo boy." Chuck looked up in alarm. "But I won't. Cause this guy knows kung fu."

There was more laughter, but Morgan was surprised to see Chuck look even more alarmed. "Just kidding," he continued. "There isn't a nicer, gentler guy out there than Chuck Bartowski."

"No guy will ever have your back like Chuck Bartowski. I remember in the fourth grade, when Alex Gempler took my lunch money, Chuck stood up to him. Now, Alex Gempler kind of looked like a cross between Shrek and a forklift, but Chuck didn't care. He also didn't get my lunch money back. But I appreciated the effort."

"In the seventh grade, when I fell in love for the first time, quickly followed by being rejected for the first time, it was Chuck who had my back, and told me that any girl that didn't want me was a fool." Morgan glanced briefly at Ellie when saying this, before remembering Devon's warning and quickly turning away.

"In the tenth grade, Chuck agreed to take a swing dancing class with me, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. I had told him that it was the perfect way to meet girls, so we had to do it. I was partly right. It was the perfect way to meet girls if you have the slightest bit of rhythm. I didn't. But Chuck stuck by me the entire time."

"After my one semester of college, when my grades wound up being…slightly lower than anticipated, it was Chuck that encouraged me, told me to follow my dream. Of course, my dream wound up leading me to a Buy More. But I've still got time, and have many more dreams to follow." Morgan looked at Anna when he said this.

"I know I haven't had Chuck's back as well as he's had mine. But the good news is that Sarah is much better at that than I'll ever be." He thought he noted another concerned look on Chuck's face. "And I know that Sarah is the love of Chuck's life, and Chuck's the love of Sarah's, and that's what matters." He snuck another look at Anna, who had an unreadable expression on her face.

"To Chuck and Sarah."

* * *

"Great toast, man."

Morgan shook the hand, though he had no idea who it belonged to. He'd been surprised at how well his speech had been received. Chuck had clapped him on the back afterward, and Sarah had both hugged him, which he was pretty sure had never happened before.

Finally, he noticed Anna walking up to him. "You did better than I thought."

"You should have more faith in me, Anna."

"Hmm, maybe there's some hope for you." A moment later, "But don't think this changes our deal."

After Anna walked away, Morgan noticed Casey standing off to a side. "And you doubted me," he said to the older man.

"I didn't doubt you. Ok, I assumed you'd run away in fear and set fire to the building, but that's only because I have faith in you."

"Ha. It was a great speech, and you know it."

Casey rolled his eyes. "Please, it was no Gettysburg Address. But you're right, as a way of telling everybody how much of a dork you are, your speech was a success."

"Yup, still jealous. Well, sorry Johnny, but Chuck likes me better. _And_, I'm a better salesman."

Casey's eyes nearly popped out. "Are you kidding? Who sold four Beastmasters in a single day? Whose name is up on that plaque for top salesman in the Buy More office? In case you're forgetting…" Casey stopped, and shook his head. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation."

"Wow, that was fun," Morgan thought to himself as Casey stomped away. "I wonder if Chuck knows you great it is to provoke Casey." Morgan smiled, and headed off to the bar. He had time for a celebratory grape schnapps, and then it was off to win back Anna.

_I hope everyone is still enjoying these. More chapters to come..._


	6. The Bridesmaid

_I don't own "Chuck." I'm sure the actual owners would object to my getting characters drunk all of the time._

**The Bridesmaid**

"Alright. First round's on me."

Carina looked around at her companions seated at the table as she said this. While she didn't have Sarah's ability to read people, she had picked up a few skills during her years on the job. She first looked to the brunette seated at her right. She only appeared to be a couple of years older than Carina, but she seemed to have that overly serious nature that most people would call maturity. Carina called it a complete inability to be fun, which wasn't much use when hanging out at a bar. Sarah had introduced her as Ellie, Chuck's sister. Carina could sort of see a resemblance, though at least Chuck was worth the occasional laugh.

The two people seated past the brunette had been introduced as the co-owner's of Sarah's new business venture. One was a blonde, about five years older than Sarah, with the tan face of a life-long resident of Southern California. The other woman was a short Asian woman, about Carina's age. Dinah and Anna, Carina believed their names were. So far, the blonde seemed to be something of a health nut, which was another thing that didn't really fit into their current setting. The other had spent half the time bemoaning her ex. However, Carina had caught her checking her out on a few cases, which was at least somewhat intriguing.

On Carina's left was Sarah, the woman of the hour. Carina had to admit that she seemed happy, despite the drastic change her life had recently taken. There was a little bit of her usual guardedness, but her smile seemed easier. She had seen Sarah being "happy" while undercover several times, but there was a subtle difference now that one could only see when looking closely at her eyes. Carina figured that getting laid regularly had really made a difference. Chuck must be better than she'd realized, and sighed momentarily about the missed opportunity.

Carina's attention returned to the table, and she collected orders for three cosmopolitans and a coke.

"Ellie," Anna protested. "This is a bachelorette party! You can't just order a coke."

"It's not a bachelorette party, guys," Sarah responded. "It's just a regular girls night out." She turned to Ellie. "But Anna's right. A coke?"

Ellie looked around at the others for a moment, before returning her gaze to Sarah. "Ok, I have to tell you something. But you can't tell Chuck." She waited for a moment while the others stared at her. "I'm pregnant!"

"Omigod!" Sarah leaped out of her seat and hugged Ellie. The others soon followed suit. Carina just nodded, and patted Ellie briefly on the shoulder.

"Sarah? Come help me get the drinks?" she asked, and the blonde woman reluctantly turned her attention away from the celebration.

* * *

"So. Are we going to give you a veil, and have all the guys in here sign your chest?"

Sarah looked like she was going to retort for a moment, but then just responded, "Like I said, it's not a bachelorette party. I guess I'm humoring them a bit. I think it's more fun for them than for me."

"Yeah, they are a fun bunch." Carina studied the crowd around the bar for a moment. As usual, several men were staring at her. None of them looked like they would be worth a night of fun, nor did they look like any kind of threat either. The outlook for the night wasn't improving.

"Be nice. They're my friends."

"I'm sure your bridge club will be a hoot."

Sarah leaned over to the bar to make the order. She turned back and said, "I don't think I'm the bridge type. Neither are they for that matter." She pointed back towards their table.

"Maybe. Your friend Ellie seems to have had some fun recently. Though I don't think she likes me much."

Sarah smiled. "Don't take it personally. I don't think she's all that impressed with models." Carina had chosen ex-model as her "profession" when the inevitable questions arose. It wasn't something she would actually aspire to, but she figured it would be believable enough.

"I guess I'll just have to suffer with her disapproval. Now, I bet that Asian girl might be a lot of fun."

"I wouldn't go there if I were you," Sarah advised. "She and her ex have this long tortured history that you don't want to get in the middle of."

"Yeah, who is this Morgan she keeps complaining about?"

"You went on a date with him a couple of years ago, remember? Short guy, with a beard?"

"That guy!" Carina said with surprise. "Well, I don't think it would be too hard to make her forget about him. At least for a night." She looked over to see a twenty-something man staring at her, open-mouthed. "Run along, little boy," she said to him with a dismissive wave.

They both laughed lightly as the man turned around, spilling half of his drink.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

Sarah sighed. "We've had this conversation before, Carina."

"Look, I get that you want to jump Chuck's bones on occasion. Nobody thinks the whole CIA 'no sex with assets' rule is ridiculous more than I do. I mean geez, they use words like asset and handler, what do they expect is going to happen?" Carina gave a dismissive glare towards a man eying her by the bar before continuing. "And sure, if you want to let Chuck love you, then hey, that's fine too. But you've been working for years to get where you are. It's a lot to throw away."

Sarah leaned in a bit so she could be heard by Carina and not anyone else. "First off, it's not about 'letting Chuck love me.' It's about letting me love him. And as for what I'm throwing away? Say I stay on the job. What's my future? Getting killed on some mission? Winding up in some desk job? Is that what I should throw everything away for? I'm not the thrill junkie you are."

Carina snorted. "Of course you are. I remember how you were when you first started out."

"Maybe at first," Sarah admitted, "but I've grown up since then. It became less about the action, and more about just getting the job done. About feeling I've done something. And there are other ways to do that."

"Like teaching women self defense?"

"That's right."

Carina shook her head. "Man, that Chuck must be a tiger in the sack."

Sarah gave her a look. "I seem to remember that you tried to find that out. Twice. And he rejected you. Twice."

Carina shrugged. "The second time was just a test. I wanted to see if he was as hopelessly love-struck as he looked. I guess he was."

The bartender handed Sarah and Carina the drinks and they headed back to the table.

* * *

"And then he just took my hand there on the beach, and got down on one knee, and asked."

"Oh God, I never get tired of hearing that story," Ellie gushed, and Anna and Dinah similarly fawned over the story. Carina merely smiled to herself. She could recognize when Sarah was lying. Maybe not about everything, but she was clearly leaving something out of the story.

"Now why can't I find a romantic guy like Chuck? My last boyfriend's idea of a night on the town was a trip to the drive-thru window."

"At least you got to go out," Anna added. "With my ex, it was couch city, every night."

"How about you, Carina?" Ellie asked. "You have any stories of the one that got away? I must have some awfully romantic stories from back in your modeling days."

Carina smiled briefly as she noted the slight mocking tone in Ellie's voice.

"Oh sure, Carina, what about that time in Prague?" Sarah egged on.

"Ooh, Prague, that does sound romantic."

"There isn't much of a story there. Just a way to fill time. I'm afraid I was traveling around so much back then that there wasn't much of a chance for any lasting relationships."

"I dunno. That still sounds like a lot of fun. Traveling the world like that."

"Sounds lonely to me," Ellie commented. "Seeing the world but having no one to share it with."

Carina noticed Sarah giving her a half-smile. "Oh I wouldn't worry about Carina. She's always been the independent type."

* * *

"So now, any time I need a favor I just call her and remind her about that pink monstrosity she made me wear."

Carina took another sip of her drink while everyone laughed at Dinah's story. Clearly, she had a higher tolerance than her fellow bridesmaids. Dinah's voice had gotten increasingly loud as her story went on, and Anna frequently broke into a giggling fit. Only Ellie remained her teetotaling self.

"That's nothing," Ellie replied. "The worst bridesmaid's dress I ever wore was at one of my sorority sister's weddings. It was peach, or was it apricot? I can never remember which is which."

Everyone looked to Carina. She guessed everyone assumed that models were experts about fashion. "Apricot is a little pinker," she explained.

"Hmm, then maybe it was pink then. Anyway, I just have to thank you," Ellie patted Sarah's hand, "for sparing all of us."

"They're just dresses."

For a moment everyone looked at Sarah in shock.

"Sarah, we really need to take you out more often! You hang around guys too much, with all that time spent with Chuck and John Casey. I'm surprised Carina didn't rub off on you more."

Carina watched Sarah stifle a chuckle.

"You must have been a bridesmaid a few times before, right?" Anna asked.

"Well, sure. There was a wedding a few years back in DC. Carina and I were both bridesmaids." Everyone waited expectantly for more.

"And?"

"That's it. Nothing wild or anything."

Actually, she was leaving out quite a bit, as Carina recalled. The groom had been a drug dealer, the bride an ex-CIA agent who decided to turn at the last minute, and the reception was a bit more violent and messy than the average one. Who would've guessed that the little groom doll on top of the cake could be used as a deadly weapon? Sarah had always been inventive that way.

"Well guys, I'm afraid it's time for me to go." Ellie stood up from the table. "I've got a lot of stuff to do tomorrow. You guys have a few more drinks for me."

* * *

"Damn, I missed!" Anna pouted as her quarter landed with a thump on the table.

Carina picked up the coin and bounced it into Dinah's glass.

"How can you keep doing that? You must have been a whiz in college!"

Carina hadn't learned the game in college, but she had played with Sarah a few times as a way of improving dexterity. On more than one occasion, she'd used a quarter to knock out an enemy agent. "Actually, I didn't go to college."

"No college?" Dinah slurred slightly.

"No, I went straight into modeling after high school.

"But where did you learn to play?"

"Oh, models play quarters too. Just, instead of taking a drink, the loser has to eat a cookie."

"Don't listen to Carina," Sarah said after everyone had stopped laughing. "I think she's sorry she missed out on college."

Carina studied Sarah for a moment. She hadn't been the only one who'd never gone to college, after all.

"Yeah, college rocked," Anna said. "A time to make friends, do crazy things, experiment…"

"Plus classes," Dinah added.

"Eh, I didn't need classes to learn things," Carina responded. Plus, she'd had plenty of opportunities to do crazy things on the job.

On her turn, Sarah bounced her quarter into Anna's drink.

"Geez, I don't think I can survive any more of this," Anna sighed.

"Me neither," Dinah stated. "I wonder if they serve coffee here?"

* * *

An hour later, everyone agreed it was time to go. While she had to admit that she'd had fun, Carina had been ready to go for a while. Sarah had insisted they stick around for a bit longer to make sure Anna and Dinah were ok.

As she headed outside, Carina heard muffled voices near the parking lot. Looking around the corner, she saw a young woman surrounded by four men. The girl looked frightened; the men did not. Carina moved quietly closer to hear what was going on.

"You aren't really refusing our hospitality, honey," the first man said, his voice slightly slurring. "That would be rude."

"Look, I just want to go home," the woman looked around, fear now clearly mirrored in her eyes.

"Oh come now, you shouldn't be alone, it's not safe," said a second man. "Lotsa crazies out there."

"I, uh, appreciate the thought, but I'll be ok. I… I know kung fu."

This set all four men into a fit of laughter. Carina inched closer.

"I don't think you do, honey. But I'm sure you will learn some things tonight."

"You know, maybe you should do as the lady says." Carina had had enough, and her voice echoed through the alley.

The men slowly turned around, and then burst into another chorus of mocking laughter. "Well, look here. Another one. Less sharing for us." The other men muttered their enthusiasm.

Carina gave each of them a quick once over. The second man, dressed in a faded Ozzfest t-shirt, seemed to be the leader based on how the others were deferring to him. He was big, about 240 pounds of steroids and mullet. He also appeared to be slightly more sober than his companions. She guessed that they posed less of a threat than their leader. Still, there were four of them.

"Well, why don't you come over here and get what you want."

"I'm pretty sure you don't have anything I'd want. And if you do, it would be too small to do much good."

One of the other men snarled, but the leader gave him a look and he stopped. "Sassy. I like that. Still," he started to move toward Carina, "I'll have to knock that sass outta you."

Carina rolled her eyes, and moved towards him.

"Hey. You need help?"

Concert t-shirt looked past Carina, giving her a chance to glance back as well. Dinah, Anna and Sarah were all at the edge of the alley. "Not really," she called back, "but feel free to join in."

"I hope this doesn't make you think the odds are in your favor."

"They already were in our favor," Anna called back, sounding spirited though still slightly drunk. "But now it's just going to be more painful."

Now clearly annoyed, Concert t-shirt reached for Carina. She caught his arm, and pulled back. Gasping in pain, he called for help. The others soon ran forward, only to be met by the other women.

It didn't last long. The men were big, but they weren't trained fighters. Carina was, and quickly handled the bullies' so-called leader. Once she was finished, she was able to sneak a glance at the others. Sarah didn't seem to have lost her touch, and had quickly taken the first man to the ground. Anna and Dinah appeared to be slightly slower, but their two opponents were still no match for them. Anna had found an old crowbar, and was defending herself with it, while Dinah had about to deliver a roundhouse kick to the man facing her.

Carina turned back to Concert t-shirt. "So, what are we going to do with you?" she asked him, or at least his legs, as the rest of him was stick inside a dumpster. "Call the police?" She turned to Sarah. "Could be good PR for your business."

"No, we teach self-defense. I think this may have gone beyond that." Sarah looked to the younger woman, who was now looking more relaxed. "Are you ok to get home?"

The girl nodded, clearly in awe of what she had just seen. Anna approached her, handing her a card. "Classes are every Tuesday evening, if you're interested."

The girl took the card, offered a breathless thank you, and quickly headed away.

"We should still call the cops, so they don't try this anymore. I can stay and tell them what happened." Dinah headed off with her cell phone. Anna went to follow her, leaving Sarah and Carina alone.

"Yeah, you don't miss the action at all, do you," Carina said, a slight smile on her face.

"Well, there are healthier ways to find some than going off on missions. I think you figured that out for yourself."

Carina shrugged. "Just letting off steam. It's the perfect end to a night out. So, are you going to spend all of your nights trolling bars looking for damsels in distress? Won't Chuck get jealous?"

"Oh, don't worry about me. We'll find our own ways of letting off steam. Besides, I can always kick your ass when you come to visit."

Carina raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so the desperate housewife is going to kick my ass. We'll see about that."

Sarah smiled. "C'mon, let's get out of here. You've got a lot of bridesmaid duties to do tomorrow. And none of them involve physical violence."

Carina sighed. She'd taught Sarah a lot of things through the years, but apparently how to throw a party wasn't one of them."

* * *

Scenes from a Wedding _will return soon with… 'The Groomsman.'_


	7. The Groomsman

_This chapter is a bit less wedding-related than the rest, but hopefully it does clear up a few questions left over from previous chapters._

_Due to an embarrassing clerical error at NBC, I actually owned 1/256__th__ of 'Chuck' for 25 minutes. But, the issue was resolved quickly, so I don't anymore. I hear people were fired over it._

**The Groomsman**

"…And my agent says I shouldn't accept anything below low six figures."

"Wow, I've never met a real screenwriter before. Do you know Martin Scorsese?"

"Marty? Oh sure, he and I…"

"Skip!"

At the sound of his name, Skip turned to find Lester standing behind him with an expectant look on his face.

"Oh, uh, hey Lester." Skip tried to hide his annoyance at the interruption. The girl had really seemed impressed by him, which wasn't something that happened very often.

"Boss wants you."

"Boss?"

"Yeah. Chuck."

"Ah." Skip turned to offer his apologies to the girl, but she had already walked away. He sighed and followed Lester towards the bride and groom's table.

"You still telling that screenplay story? Have you even started it?"

"I have an outline." It wasn't his fault that Morgan had stolen his original idea. "Did Chuck say what he wanted?"

Lester shook his head. "I'm sure it's an important groomsman duty." Lester stopped, and turned around. "You know I don't get why he picked you over me, anyway. Chuck and I have always been very close."

Skip wasn't sure he believed that, but he decided not to argue. Lester had been grumpy lately, ever since the band breakup had strained his relationship with Jeff. Instead, he said, "Chuck and I hang out."

"When?"

"Sometimes. We've had our moments."

Lester gave him a look, then shrugged. "Whatever." They reached the table where Chuck was seated, waiting for them. "Here he is. My duty is done."

"Uh, thanks," Chuck said to Lester's departing form. "Hey Skip, I need you to do me a favor. I promise it will be a simple one this time."

* * *

As he headed off to handle Chuck's request, Skip had to admit that he understood Lester's confusion. Chuck had never really talked to him that much, except in official Buy More circles. But things had changed a few months back.

It had been a Thursday night, and on his way home from the weekly "Grey's Anatomy" party at Fernando's, he had realized he'd left his inhaler in his Buy More locker. The store would be closed, but he had figured the night janitor would still be there. He had been surprised, however, to find the front door lying on its side. His need for the inhaler greater than his fear, he carefully walked inside. At first he'd thought the place was deserted, but then he heard the sound of wheezing coming from the floor. He hurried over to find Chuck lying on the ground, a dark red splotch on his shirt.

"Chuck? Man, are you ok?"

"Skip?" Chuck looked at him uncertainly. "You shouldn't be here."

"What? No, the door was… open. You're bleeding. What happened?"

"I've been shot." Chuck explained quietly. He lay there for a moment, before speaking again. "Skip. I'm going to need your help with something."

"Sure. You need me to call 911?"

"No!" Skip was surprised at the force in his voice. "Don't do that. They'll send me to the hospital where my sister is. She'll freak out."

"Well, yeah. I'd imagine so. But if you don't want me to call 911, what do you need me to do."

Chuck looked up at him. "I want you to take the bullet out."

* * *

Skip walked through the crowd at the wedding reception, and soon approached his target. The man Chuck had pointed out was currently talking with two other tuxedo-clad wedding guests. He noticed that none of them seemed to be particularly enthused by the conversation.

"Excuse me," Skip said after clearing his throat. "Mr... Walker?"

"Call me Jack. What can I do for you?" Skip felt the older man studying him intently, and not without amusement.

"It's your daughter. She needs to talk to you."

"Ah." Jack looked over at his two companions, who were smiling politely. "Did she say why?"

Skip shrugged. "No, just that I needed to come get you."

Jack looked behind Skip to where Chuck and Sarah were seated. "Well, gentlemen, I guess I'd better go." As they began to follow him, he added, "This may be a private family conversation. No offense."

The two men stood behind momentarily, until one excused himself and followed slightly after. Skip looked over at the other man. His polite smile had evaporated, and Skip felt a chill as the other man looked at him coldly.

"You. Come with me."

"Uh, why?"

"Please just follow me." Skip felt a strong hand grab his arm and he found himself headed out of the ballroom. As they reached the hallway, a chirping sound interrupted their movement.

The man glanced down at his phone. Skip could see the message on the screen but chose not to be caught trying to read it. The man let out a grunt of confusion before putting the phone away. He turned and regarded Skip for a moment, appeared to be about to say something, but instead headed out towards the front door.

Skip sighed after a moment. Why was it that doing somebody a favor always wound up being so complicated?

* * *

"Huh?"

Looking back, Skip supposed he could have made a more eloquent reply to Chuck's request that night, but that was what he had ended up with. Usually, requests made of him involved taking out the trash, taking somebody else's shift at the Buy More, or taking his friends' wallflower sister out to dinner. This was something new entirely.

"Relax, Skip. You can do this."

"Are you insane? Why would you even think I could do that?"

"Because I'll tell you what to do."

Chuck's voice was calm, and as reassuring as a voice could be when requesting invasive surgery. Skip wasn't buying it, and just stood there staring down at him.

"You'll just need to get a few things first, and then I'll talk you through it."

Skip merely nodded.

"There's a small knife and tweezers in the top drawer back at the Nerd Herd station. You'll need that. Then, you need to get the hot plate in Big Mike's office."

"Isn't the office door locked?"

"There's a key in Morgan's locker. His combination is 11-15-40. Why'll you're back there, you also need to get the CPR dummy."

Skip gave Chuck a look. "Why would we need that?"

"Because, I have to show you what to do, rather than explain it. Trust me, we need it."

Skip didn't question this, though it made no sense to him. "I don't think it's back there anyway. It hasn't been used since…"

"It's in Jeff's locker." Chuck saw the look on Skip's face and said, "Don't ask. But it's in there. His combination is…"

"36-24-36. Yeah, everybody knows that one."

"I think there's some whiskey in there too. Get that as well."

Skip nodded. He suspected out of all of the things Chuck requested, that would be the most useful.

* * *

Skip stood in the hallway for a moment, before the sound of rapid footsteps interrupted his thoughts. The quickly moving figure of Sarah's father soon emerged into view.

"Hey, kid. Is there anybody around?"

Skip shook his head no.

"Good, c'mon."

As Skip reluctantly followed the older man, the sound of applause rang from the ballroom. "What's going on?"

"Someone's giving a speech."

"Another one?" Skip had heard Morgan give his toast only a half-hour ago.

"You're not missing anything with this one. Hurry up!"

"Where are we going?" They were nearing the reception hall's foyer, which was mostly deserted other than the valet stand.

"You're going to get that guy's attention." Jack pointed to the on-duty valet.

"Why?"

"Don't worry about that, kid. Just be a sparkling conversationalist for a few minutes, and we're good."

Skip sighed. He really had to stop doing favors for people.

* * *

"Maybe you should shoot the dummy?"

Skip had pulled the now sterilized knife out of the boiling water, and had poured some of the whiskey onto Chuck's side where the bullet had hit him. He was now waiting expectantly with the knife in his hands. All he needed was for Chuck to tell him what to do. But, while his patient had managed to prop himself up on his arm, he hadn't done anything further other than stare at the dummy.

Chuck looked up, and regarded Skip. "It might."

"Uh, I was kidding."

"No, it might help. Grab the price gun."

"You want me to ring up the dummy?"

"Just try it."

"Alright, alright." Skip grabbed the price gun and returned to the dummy. This was ridiculous, he thought to himself. A few more minutes, and he'd definitely call 911, no matter what Chuck had said. Skip could tell that he was feeling worse, and all they'd manage to do was waste time.

"Now," Chuck said, "just aim at the dummy."

"Should I make a shooting sound?"

"Just do it."

Skip did as he was told, and fired at the dummy. He gasped as he looked over to see Chuck's eyes rolling back in his head. Clearly, he needed real medical attention, and he needed it soon.

But then Chuck moved over and took the knife he had been given. Despite his obvious discomfort, he was able to make a precise incision in the dummy. He took the pair of tweezers, and slid them in.

After a moment, he pulled the tweezers back out and relaxed. He handed the knife and tweezers back to Skip. "Now you."

"I really don't think…"

"Hurry!"

Skip slowly leaned over with the knife and made an incision in Chuck's side.

* * *

"Excuse me."

The valet looked up, and glanced at Skip with a bored expression. "Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you could help me with something."

"You need me to get your car?"

"No, nothing like that. You see, I'm working on this screenplay, and…"

"So you're looking for a job?"

"No. I was actually hoping to make my main character a valet."

"Seriously?" The valet looked at Skip dubiously.

"Seriously. You see, he's working at a fancy gala, and he finds a suitcase with two million dollars in the backseat of one of the cars he's parking. So, he takes it, and finds himself on the run from the mob. I'm thinking Shia LaBeouf as the lead."

"Oh yeah?" The valet looked slightly less skeptical. "And what do you need from me?"

"Well, uh, I was kind of hoping you'd walk me through a day in the life of a valet. I'm going for gritty realism, you know."

"Oh. So, what do you want to know?"

"Well, I was thinking maybe you could show me around this area." Skip gestured around the foyer. "Get me a feel for the place. Setting is very important, you see."

"This is just a lobby. There isn't much to it."

"Well, how about out here?" Skip motioned outside and walked out to the revolving doors. "What's it like driving all of these fancy cars?"

"Uh, what fancy cars?" The parking lot was mainly filled with late-model American sedans, not to mention several Nerd Herders.

"Well, ok, what about that one?" Skip motioned to one Porsche parked in one corner. "Driving that must be exciting." He walked over towards the sports car, making sure the valet was following him.

"Well, I suppose, but I only get to drive it a few feet. And I really shouldn't desert my post."

Skip looked back, and saw Jack rifling through the valet stand inside the ballroom. "So there's a lot of danger? People stealing cars?"

"Well, the keys are locked pretty securely. But still."

Looking over the valet's shoulder, Skip could see Jack take a pair of keys. Apparently they weren't as secure as he thought.

"Oh, well maybe you're right. We should go back. Uh, thanks for your help."

"Sure thing. So, do I get a producer's credit in your movie?"

* * *

The bullet made a clanking sound as Skip dropped it into the Buy More mug. He sighed in relief, before turning back to Chuck.

"Now, can you stitch it up."

Skip nodded. That was one skill he had picked up in Boy Scouts. He took a set of thread from the Nerd Herd station, and the wound was stitched in no time.

Chuck nodded in relief. "Not too bad."

Skip took the bloody knife and tweezers, and returned the hot plate to Big Mike's office. When he returned, he glanced at the whiskey bottle. Only a few drops had been needed to disinfect the wound. "What about this?"

Chuck slowly leaned over and grabbed the bottle. He took a quick swig and handed it to Skip. "You've earned it."

Skip winced as he swallowed a mouthful of the whiskey. "I think I earned better than this."

"Probably true. I'll get you a bottle of something decent later."

Skip took another look at the mess surrounding them, and decided another gulp of the whiskey was in order. "So how did you know how to … remove a bullet?"

"Family full of doctors," Chuck replied. "They showed me once."

Skip nodded, thinking that there must be some very strange Thanksgivings at the Bartowski house. "Should I call anybody? Your girlfriend?" Skip hoped there wasn't any hint of jealousy in his voice as he said this. He'd met Chuck's girlfriend a few times, and he still couldn't understand how that had happened.

"She's supposed to come by shortly. I'd appreciate if you didn't mention this to her. I'd like to explain this on my own." Chuck took the whiskey bottle from Skip and took another swig.

"I'm not sure what I'd be able to tell her. What happened anyway?" For a moment, he imagined that Chuck led some crazy danger-filled life, but one glance back at his fellow Nerd Herder reminded Skip of how ridiculous that thought was.

"A thief came in. I managed to interrupt him, but not before…" Chuck gestured to his side.

"Geez, you should at least call the police."

"It's a bit late now. He's long gone, and nothing was taken." Chuck took another sip from the bottle, and handed it back to Skip. "You're a good man, Skip Johnson." He clapped his hand on Skip's shoulder. "I know that you are someone I can always count on if I need you."

* * *

Yup, good old dependable Skip. He stood outside after the valet had returned to his post, and soon a beige sedan pulled out of the parking lot. He watched Chuck's new father-in-law wave at him briefly as he drove off. Skip wanted to laugh, at least until the 'LV2FISH' license plate came into view. Now, on top of everything else, he would have to break some bad news to his boss as well.

Skip came to the decision as he walked back towards the ballroom. As of now, he was going to stop doing people favors. Especially Chuck Bartowski.

* * *

_There will be more scenes shortly, though I'm not sure who goes next. I've still got three regulars, an ex-regular, plus Chuck and Sarah (who will go last, natch). Any requests? Please let me know. And please review!_


	8. The Matron of Honor

_I don't think I own 'Chuck' but I'll check my pockets to be sure... Let's see: lint, 37 cents, Quizno's receipt, high school locker combination (why do I still have that?)... Nope, no 'Chuck.'_

**The Matron of Honor**

"So you're Sarah's cousin, huh?"

"Yup."

"It must have been fun growing up with her."

"Yup." The man's response was as expressionless as his face. Ellie felt like she might as well be talking to the ice sculpture.

"I bet you're excited about her getting married, huh?"

"Sure." At least he was starting to mix things up, she thought to herself. Her attention wandered to the floor of the ballroom. Ellie loved to dance, and she figured she only had a short while before she started to balloon in size. Unfortunately, her husband was currently talking with Chuck and John Casey and somehow, she didn't think Sarah's cousin was the dancing type. Still, there were a lot of men at the wedding, and you'd think that one would want to dance with the maid of honor. If it came down to it, she might even dance with Morgan.

As if on cue, there was a tap on her shoulder. "Dance?"

Ellie shrugged, as she regarded the bearded man. "Sure, why not," and they walked over to the dance floor as Journey's 'Faithfully' began to play.

"I figured you'd say no," Morgan said, putting his hand on her back. "We already had our one required best man/matron of honor."

"Well, you caught me in a weak moment." Their earlier dance had been somewhat awkward, even though most of the reception hall had been focusing on the bride and groom. "And don't call me matron."

"But isn't that technically what…"

"This is a wedding. We don't need to be technical." The word matron made her feel like she should be puttering around her house in a bathrobe all day. Quickly changing the subject, she said, "Morgan, have you noticed something odd about Sarah's family?"

Morgan looked around for a bit. "Not really, other than they all seem awfully…fit."

"Well that, but they're all so quiet. I can't get any of them to talk. It's almost like they're hiding something."

"What would they be hiding?"

"No idea." Ellie tried not to wince as Morgan stepped on her foot. At least he didn't weigh much.

"Hmm. Maybe there's some big family secret. Like they're descended from royalty, or something. Or, maybe her aunt is really her mother."

"Don't be ridiculous. I just think it seems strange." She looked back at her dance partner. "So, when are you going to fix thing with Anna?"

"Why do you think that I'm going to get back together with Anna?"

"Because you always do. And because she's been moody and hard to work with lately so I'm going to make sure you do."

"But that doesn't mean she wants to get back together with me."

"No, trust me, it does. She talks about you all the time."

"I dunno. She says I don't follow things through. That I quit all the time. You'd think she'd be used to that by now."

"You need to prove to her that you're serious about things. You need to quit the Buy More, like Chuck did."

"Hey, I'm assistant manager now!"

"I'm not sure she sees that as a lofty goal."

"Well, don't worry, I have a plan. And besides if that doesn't work, there are other women out there for me."

Ellie felt Morgan's hand slide downward. She quickly stomped down on his feet.

"Youch! You're not supposed to do that! I'm the best man!"

Before Ellie could respond, a voice behind her said, "Perhaps this is a good time for me to cut in."

* * *

"Oh hello, Mr. Bartowski." Ellie could hear the disappointment in Morgan's voice as he let go of her and headed off to find the punch bowl.

"Never thought that kid would ever grow up to be an adult." Stephen Bartowski said as he put his arm around his daughter's waist.

"Yeah, well you should trust your instincts on that one," Ellie replied, as the Journey song faded into Peter Gabriel.

"So, quite the shindig, huh?"

"Yeah. Everything's gone a little smoother than the last one."

"Yeah. Very smooth. And you got to be the reliable dad for once this time." Ellie arched an eyebrow.

Stephen looked down for a moment. "I know, I'm sorry I haven't always…"

"You're here now. For both of us." She looked around to see if she could find Sarah's father, and didn't see him anywhere in the ballroom. "Still, it's nice to see that disappearing parents aren't that rare."

"No, I, uh, it believe he had to leave."

Ellie shook her head. "It's no wonder it took Chuck and Sarah this long to get married."

"Well, I'm sure they've had a lot to deal with through the years. All that matters is they're here now."

Ellie looked at her father. "I guess. Well at least Sarah's aunt's still here," she said, seeing the somewhat sullen figure by the bar. She seemed to be trying to get out of a conversation with Kelly, a nurse at Ellie's hospital. "Have you met her?"

"Only briefly, she's…charming."

"Then you haven't met her."

Stephen smiled at Ellie's comment. "Well, not all families can be like ours."

"Hmm. Speaking of which, how busy are your weekends for the next eighteen years?"

Ellie's father stopped in his tracks. "You're kidding!" He enveloped her in a giant hug. "This is wonderful!"

"Wonderful, but scary."

"You'll be wonderful, you know that."

They finally let go as the song ended. "Thanks. But don't think that gets you out of babysitting."

* * *

Ellie sat down, putting her feet up on the chair in front of her. The crowd on the dance floor had thinned somewhat.

"This is criminal." Ellie turned to the source of the unfamiliar, but decidedly British, voice behind her.

"What is?"

"A woman as beautiful as yourself not dancing with anyone."

Ellie wanted to roll her eyes at the line, but somehow the accent sold it. "I needed a breather."

"Nonsense." The man held out his hand. Even though he was wearing a grey suit rather than a tuxedo, an image of James Bond floated through Ellie's head and she got to her feet. To complete the illusion, the opening strains of 'For Your Eyes Only' began to play. Ellie figured that was one of Chuck's song choices – clearly he watched too many movies.

"So I don't think we've met," Ellie said as she glided on the dance floor with her partner.

"Name's Cole Barker, and I presume you are the lovely maid of honor and Chuck's sister."

"Uh huh," Ellie responded awkwardly. "So you're friends with Chuck? Or Sarah?"

"I know Sarah from back in DC," he responded. Seeing Ellie's eyes narrow, he added, "But nothing like that. I was her teacher actually."

"No kidding. So all of those moves she's been teaching the Greater Burbank area…"

"She's spilling all of my secrets," Cole replied, shaking his head in fake regret. "But I can assure you, it never went further than that. Her eyes are for Chuck only."

"Really?" Despite her loyalty to her brother, she had a hard time believing this.

"I'm flattered by your skepticism, but I assure you it's the truth."

"Hey, I love my brother. But, I mean up until a few months back, he worked at a Buy More. He hasn't really been one to live up to his potential."

"And how do you know that?" the British man asked. "Have you seen him at work?"

"Well, a few times."

"Perhaps there was a lot more responsibility there than you realized."

"Well some of his co-workers _are_ a bit…challenged."

"I'd bet that you'd be surprised by how much your brother has done." He underscored this statement by casually dipping Ellie.

"You have a way with words, Mr. Barker."

"Well, I do what I can. And now I believe that man glowering in our direction is your husband?"

Ellie looked over. "Yup. Maybe you could dip me again to really get him mad?"

* * *

"Jealous?" After the song had ended, the British man had graciously relinquished Ellie to her husband.

"Of course not, Babe. I know you could never fall for that British pomp and circumstance. Besides, it's not like he's got anything I haven't got."

Ellie glanced over at the departing form of her recent dance partner for a moment, and didn't say anything. "He said he was an old teacher of Sarah's," she spoke up after a moment.

"Ah," Devon replied.

Ellie looked over at her husband. "He said they were never together."

Devon smiled. "I'm sure they weren't." The next song was 'Unforgettable,' and Devon put his arm around his wife as they began to dance.

"As much as I love Sarah, I wish she weren't so mysterious about her past. Of course now that I've met her family, I can see where it came from."

"Her past is just her past. I think she's entitled to that. Besides, not all of it might be as pleasant as Colin Farrell back there."

"Colin Farrell's Irish, honey."

"Whatever. I just don't think it's anything to worry about. She's one of us now, right?"

"I guess."

"And the important thing, like you said, is that you love her. And even more important, Chuck does."

"I know."

"And besides, if I can survive having strange in-laws, I'm sure Chuck can too."

"You'd better watch it. I may go catch up with Roger Moore back there." She looked around, but didn't see Cole anywhere. "Speaking of in-laws," she added as she noticed something else, "it looks like Dad is making friends with one of them."

"Stephen Bartowski, diplomat," Devon chuckled, following Ellie's eyes.

"I don't know how he does it. Sarah's aunt kind of gives me the willies. If I ever invite her over for Thanksgiving, stop me."

"Deal." Devon gave her a concerned look as the song wound down. "How are you feeling? Do you need to sit down?"

"Relax, Doc," Ellie replied drily. "I think it's a bit early to put me on bed rest."

Devon smiled mischeviously. "Actually that sounds kind of…"

"Awesome. Yeah, yeah. How about you get me a glass of water, Lover Boy. We can discuss the rest later."

"Sure thing, Honey."

As he headed over to the bar, Ellie wondered if she could convince Devon to try a British accent tonight.

* * *

Despite her reply to Devon's concerns, Ellie was beginning to feel tired. Still, there was one more dance partner she needed to find.

"Hey," she said when she found him momentarily seated.

"Hey, Sis." Chuck smiled up at her.

"May I borrow your husband?" Ellie asked Sarah, who was seated beside him, her hand on his arm.

"Sure. Just bring him back in one piece."

"Well?" She asked after leading her brother to the dance floor. Elli smiled as she heard Cyndi Lauper's 'True Colors' begin to play. "Do you feel like a real adult now?"

"I've actually felt like a real adult for a while now, Ellie," Chuck replied.

"Yeah, I know. One of many things to thank Sarah for."

"It's not just because of Sarah, you know," Chuck smiled at her. "Though she's definitely helped. So I suppose the adult thing would be to offer to babysit, huh?"

"I've already booked Dad for that. But I'll keep you on file. You do have all the necessary experience from dealing with Morgan all these years."

"True. Very true."

"You know," Ellie said after a moment, "I don't know that I've always been fair to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I've always assumed that you were always wasting your time all those years at the Buy More. Never having a plan. I should have given you more credit."

"Wow? What brought this on?"

"Something somebody told me. And besides, if you hadn't been at the Buy More, you wouldn't have met Sarah."

"I can't argue with that."

"And now you're one of us. So, is there any advice I can bestow? How to keep Sarah happy? About living together and sharing everything? About the honeymoon?"

"Whoa, whoa! I beg you to not go any further with that though. I think I'm good. And besides," Chuck flashed a grin, "If I need advice on how to deal with my wife's crazy moods, I'll talk to Devon."

"You keep forgetting that I'm pregnant and prone to violent mood swings. And, I took Sarah's class."

"Ok, ok. Message received."

"Chuck?"

"I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks Sis." As the song ended, Ellie reached over and enveloped her brother in a tight hug. After Chuck headed back to his new wife, Ellie sat down with a sigh. Yup, she'd definitely had her fill of dancing for one night.

* * *

_The next chapter may have to involve a knife fight erupting around the wedding cake to make up for the fluffiness of that one. But I figured Ellie deserved a nice wedding experience._


	9. The Ex

_Sorry for the long break on this story. For those of you that don't remember, this basically started as an AU post Season 2, so most of what occurred during Season 3 didn't happen. Though I did decide to use one detail in this chapter._

**The Ex**

The coffee house was crowded. It was mid-afternoon, and the tables were full of high school kids just out from school, office workers who had snuck away from their desks to get a caffeine fix, and the occasional person just wasting the day away. Everyone was fully immersed in their own lives, so nobody paid attention to the woman seated by herself in the corner table.

She sat facing the door, anxiously expecting for someone to walk inside. He was a few minutes late, but that didn't bother her. She had been trying to get him to meet her for months, receiving little in return until a message a few days ago. She would occasionally scan the room, checking on the other patrons. Nobody looked out of place, but she knew that meant nothing.

She was trained to be aware of her surroundings, and the last few months had given her plenty of practice with this skill. At her best, she could hear a spoon drop from 50 yards away. So she was surprised when a voice appeared from nowhere behind her.

"Hello Jill."

Jill turned around to see the woman standing behind her. She looked as beautiful as she ever had, Jill admitted grudgingly. Even dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, she seemed to get the attention of every man in the room. And why not, it was something she'd been trained to do. Plus, she also had her upcoming moment of triumph to bask in, which didn't hurt.

Except she wasn't glowing right now. She didn't seem particularly happy at all to be standing there. This at least made Jill feel better.

"I might have known you'd try to keep me from seeing him."

The woman's lip curled in a smile, and she sat down at the table. "Why are you here, Jill?"

"Why do you think? To talk to him, get him to see reason. But I see you don't want me to get my messages."

"Oh, he got your messages. He just doesn't want to see you."

"I don't believe you. He would have responded if he did."

The other woman didn't respond right away. "You're right. He did want to respond. To tell you to stay away. But I figured I could deliver the message much more clearly."

"Well, you've made it very clear that you're willing to do anything to protect your asset. But I'm not here to hurt him."

"You did more than enough of that when you last saw him. And Chuck's…not just an asset."

Jill studied her companion for a moment. She certainly seemed earnest, and she had guessed that there might have been some sort of mutual attraction between them before. Still, she knew enough to not trust her. Fulcrum, CIA, it didn't matter. They were all the same. "Does Chuck even know you're here?"

The other didn't respond right away. "No. But it doesn't matter. There's nothing you can do to stop the wedding."

"Are you sure about that? What if I tell him all about your secrets? How would he react then…Sam?"

The CIA agent raised an eyebrow briefly, but otherwise betrayed nothing. "You've been doing your homework. Couldn't have been easy for somebody on the run all the time."

She wasn't kidding. Hacking into government databases wasn't her true area of expertise, so trying to do it while keeping an eye out for CIA, NSA, or any other government agents had been difficult. But she had been determined. So she'd managed to learn everything about Samantha Waterford, her being raised by her con artist father, her eventual indoctrination into the CIA, and some of the details of her past missions. Jill had no doubt that some of those details would shock and horrify Chuck.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said. "Chuck knows everything. I don't have any secrets from him anymore."

"Except this little meeting," Jill said archly. She glanced around to see if anyone else had entered the coffee shop since Sam had sat down. "You think you can take me in without his knowing?"

"I'm not here to take you in." Sam looked past Jill for a moment. "You helped Chuck find his father. He will always be grateful to you for that. So will I." She turned back to Jill. "Besides, I don't have the power to bring you in anymore."

Jill was surprised. From her file, Samantha Waterford was a dedicated agent, who'd likely wind up at the top of her field in a few years. Either that, or dead. "You left the agency?"

"That's right."

"But why?"

The blonde woman sat there for a moment, fiddling with the empty cup in front of her. Finally, "In the past few years, I've realized that I didn't want what I thought I did. That there were things that I didn't believe that I deserved because of my…background. Chuck made me see differently. That I could be the person that he saw, and not the person the CIA did." She gave Jill a sharp look. "I love how he saw me, and I love him for it."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jill asked.

"Because you're wasting your time being here. Trying to reach Chuck. He doesn't want to see you. What he and I have is more than you ever did, more than you could even hope of having." She help up a hand before Jill could protest. "I know what happened between you two years ago. But don't believe it was more than it was. He was trying to rekindle memories of what his life was like when things were a lot simpler for him. But once you shattered that illusion once and for all, that was it."

"Leave here, Jill, and never come back. This is only hurting you, and playing on Chuck's good nature. And while some of that has rubbed off on me, I don't think you want to push it. I will hurt you, even if I have to do it in a wedding dress."

Sam stood up, and quietly left the coffee shop.

* * *

Despite Sam's suggestion, Jill found herself in a parking lot staring at the reception hall two weeks later. While they had attempted to disguise themselves, Jill had been able to detect the CIA's presence outside the church and realized that getting inside to stop the ceremony was a futile prospect. Still, she figured it was never too late. If she could talk to Chuck, she could convince him. An annulment or a quick divorce was certainly possible.

She sat in the car, watching one of the caterers walk past the entrance for the third time. Definitely with the agency. Jill wasn't particularly surprised. Two CIA agents getting married, this would certainly be an event that would draw enemy attention. Somebody could easily show up with the intent to kill them. That wasn't her agenda though. Though she was certainly prepared to kill _one_ of them if necessary.

Once the caterer had disappeared, Jill watched to see if anyone else came around. Apparently, the security wasn't quite as tight as it was at the church. Seeing her opportunity, Jill stepped out of the car. Once she got inside, she shouldn't have too much trouble blending in, since she was dressed for the occasion. When one was on the run, stealing dresses from department stores wasn't something to lose sleep over.

The hall was crowded. She figured that Chuck had plenty of friends and family, but that wouldn't account for everyone. She knew that Samantha Waterford had always been a bit of a loner, so she probably wouldn't have invited more than a few co-workers. That meant that there were quite a few agents on the premises. She would have to be careful.

She carefully stepped inside, and worked her way towards the front table. Chuck was in deep conversation with Sam, seemingly oblivious to everyone around. She recognized Chuck's friend Morgan seated next to him. He started clanking on his glass with a spoon. Chuck looked up in embarrassment, then turned to kiss his new wife. Jill sighed. She'd always hated Morgan.

Movement caught her eye, and she saw John Casey walking through the room. He was dressed in a tuxedo, causing Jill to wonder in amusement whether he was in the wedding party. Still, formal attire or no, he was someone she needed to avoid. She quickly headed towards the buffet table, nearly running into a tall, red-haired younger man.

"Uh, hi there," the man said nervously. Like Casey, he was dressed in a tuxedo, though he clearly didn't wear it as well. Still, she needed to fade into the background, and he could help with that.

"Hello yourself," she said in her friendliest voice.

"Uh, I'm Skip."

"Hello Skip, I'm Molly." It was a name she'd used name periodically while under cover. "You look like you're in the wedding party. You must be very important."

Skip straightened. "I am. I'm a… screenwriter."

"Really?" Jill recognized the slight hesitation in his speech, and figured he was actually one of Chuck's old Buy More co-workers. She glanced over at the head table, but Chuck was still sitting there, immersed in conversation. She needed to stay nearby, so she'd let Skip have his little lie. "That sounds fascinating. Tell me all about it."

"Oh. Really, you're interested?"

"Of course. Why don't you tell me while we go to the buffet table together."

"Um, ok. You see, it's about these two aliens…"

* * *

After listening to the man red-haired man go on about his movie idea for several minutes, Jill was rescued by a short Indian man who came to retrieve him. She heard him say something about Chuck needing something, and hoped that this meant we would finally tear himself away from Sam.

She discreetly moved toward the head table. Before she could get closer, she noticed one of the "caterers" headed in her direction, and she glanced around for a place to look as inconspicuous as possible. The DJ booth was a few feet away, and she headed over there. The DJ didn't seem to have that air of trying too hard that undercover agents often gave off, so she figured she was safe for the moment. She made a show of looking through the CDs, while keeping an eye out for Chuck.

"Can I help you find anything?" Jill looked up to see the DJ eyeing her.

"Uh sure, could you play this?" She grabbed a random CD and handed it to him.

The DJ made a slight face. "Wang Chung? Sure, no problem."

Jill turned around, and smiled slightly when she saw Chuck motioning towards her. Now was her chance. She just wished he would be a little less obvious about it, though.

She heard footsteps behind her. "Excuse me," she heard the DJ say behind her. "I'll have to hold off on the song for now, I'm being summoned." She watched him go over to Chuck's table. So much for her opportunity, she thought to herself as she stood there.

"Hello again, everyone," Chuck said when the DJ had handed him the microphone. "I think I know what you guys are thinking." He scanned the crowd for a moment after saying this. If he saw Jill, he made no show of it. "You guys are thinking, 'Boy, this a great reception, but what it needs is more speeches.'"

A smattering of groans echoed throughout the hall. "The good news is that I'm not going to be the one giving the speech this time. This time, I'm going to hand the microphone over to my new aunt…, uh, aunt-in-law…, uh Diane, who would like to say a few words."

The microphone was handed over to a woman that clearly did not want to say a few words. Jill recognized General Beckman, of course. She was surprised to see her here at all, let alone playing the role of the aunt. For that matter, she was surprised that anyone could believe that she was related to the bride.

The General took the microphone reluctantly and stood up. She stared back at the crowd for a moment, her gaze expressionless, before finally speaking.

"A marriage is a partnership. Two people, working towards a common goal. Each one, putting aside their own wants for the greater good." The General paused for a moment, looking back at the happy couple, before continuing.

"I know there will be times when one of you will want to think about what _you_ want. Your own happiness over what's best for the team. Over what's best for everyone."

"Does she coach little league on the side?" someone whispered near Jill.

"It's important to remember that is not an option," the General continued. "This type of thinking can ruin everything. It can lead to disappointment, betrayal, the promise of a long-term relationship ending." The General was looking at Sarah as she said this.

Jill glanced around at the confused expressions on most of the faces in the hall. The General noticed them as well, and stood there for a moment, saying nothing. Finally she said, "But I'm sure Charles and Sarah won't have to worry about that. To Charles and Sarah." She quickly sat back down, and everyone returned to their own dinners and conversations.

* * *

Jill had been watching Chuck and his wife throughout the speech. Despite the clear meaning of the General's speech, she hadn't even flinched. Instead, she was giving Chuck a look of complete adoration. It was a look that Jill would never have expected to see from Samantha Waterford. Clearly, the woman seated next to Chuck had no regrets about leaving her past life behind. Samantha Waterford was no more. Sarah Walker Bartowski had taken her place for good.

It was the look that Chuck gave Sarah, though, that really chilled Jill. It was a look that Chuck had never given her, even when they were together in college. In fact, it was a look that no one had ever given her. A look that said that nothing that had ever happened in the past mattered at all, that he could see her true being and that was what he loved.

For one brief moment, though, Jill had seen him look away from Sarah. She followed his eyes to see an older man leaving the ballroom. It was a man Jill recognized. Jack Waterford, alias Dave Hope, alias John Robie, alias Hector Valenzuela, alias Jack Burton. Sarah's father. She immediately understood why Chuck had the General speak at that moment.

After giving the happy couple one last glance, she decided it was time to leave. As quietly as she could, she passed by the DJ table and walked into the hall. She could see Waterford walking down the hallway, and then touch the shoulder of the red-haired groomsman she had talked to earlier. As they headed off towards the foyer, she saw two large men enter the hall. A smile hit Jill's lips.

She stepped in front of the two men. "Excuse me, could you tell me wear the coat check room is?"

It only took a moment for recognition to dawn in the eyes of the one of the mean. "Jill Roberts," he said, briefly glancing at the other.

That moment was enough for Jill, though. She kicked one of the men in the knee, and his firearm fell from his hand onto the floor. She quickly grabbed it, and aimed it at the other man.

A few minutes later, the two men were safely bound and gagged in an empty office. Jill admired her handiwork for a moment before she walked away. "Have a nice life, Chuck. Consider that my wedding present."

* * *

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes, madam." The man spoke in accented English. The woman had clearly just arrived at the airport, and looked somewhat worn from the travel. Her brunette hair was tied behind her, and her eyelids looked somewhat heavy from behind the lenses of her glasses. "Are you with Doctors Without Borders?"

"I am. I was a last minute addition to the roster."

"I see. You are a medical doctor?"

"Biochemist. I was sent to help with preparing the vaccine."

"Excellent. Welcome to Nigeria." He held out his hand, and the woman shook it. "Could I have your name please?"

The woman nodded. "It's Doctor Waterford. Doctor Samantha Waterford."

_Ok, I'm sure most people won't like my choice for Sam/Sarah's real last name. But I figured I needed something, and I like the idea of something that suggests transparency (as in Waterford crystal) being something she would want to change._

_I've been focusing on the 'Unscripted Programming' story recently, since there seemed to be more interest in that one. But I do have about 3 chapters left on this one (I'll let you figure out whose POVs those three will be)._

_Please review! I greatly appreciate any and all feedback. _


	10. The Casey

_I'd tell you that I owned Chuck, but thanks to that newly introduced 11__th__ question on the census: _"Do you own Chuck? (Y/N)"_, there is official government documentation that would prove I'm lying._

**The Casey**

It had been many years since John Casey had been a member of a wedding party. A few of his high school friends had gotten married right after graduation, and there had been the occasional fellow officer that had asked him to stand with him at his wedding. Since then, Casey's solitary lifestyle had left him clear of any such duties. Of course, there had been the impromptu wedding between Bartowski's sister and her jeans' model of a fiancée, but most of his work had been behind the scenes then. This was different.

Casey was used to wearing uniforms, and of the air of authority they gave off. Apparently, a groomsman's tuxedo did the same thing. Unfortunately, instead of helping civilians in danger, now he was helping them find the carving station. And explaining to every nosy guest how he knew the happy couple wasn't a role he was particularly thrilled with.

His alternate role in the wedding was something a bit more up his alley. In addition to his groomsman duties, Casey was also responsible for the reception's security. He'd recruited and trained the agents, created plausible back stories for them where necessary, and eased them into their various roles as wedding caterers, waiters, and distant relatives. At the moment, he was checking in with one of the younger agents he'd brought in.

"Everything ok, Agent Wright?" Casey asked the young man behind the bar.

"Shipshape, sir."

"Did you do what I asked?"

The young agent looked around furtively before disappearing down behind the bar. A moment later he returned carrying a bottle of Scotch. "A bottle of Glenlivit, just like you asked."

"Good." The Scotch ordered for the wedding was perfectly fine, but Casey had decided to make sure that there was something else available just for him. After all the years spent saving his ass, Bartowski owed him that much.

"Sir?" Wright asked as he began to pour a glass. "Can I ask what this mission is about? I've been undercover before, but nothing like this, and nothing with a General in the field." He gestured toward General Beckman, who was glowering off to one side of the room.

Casey had to admit he never thought she would wind up here either. When Walker had announced to the General that she planned to leave the CIA and marry Bartowski, there had been a lot of shouting. Beckman had pointed her accusatory glances at the two of them, and occasionally at Casey for not preventing the whole situation.

And yet, a week later the General decided to accept her resignation, and offered to help with providing the necessary cover to avoid revealing Walker's secrets to her new family.

Of course, Casey told none of this to the young Agent. Instead, he said, "Agents Walker and Bartowski served this country honorably for years. The General decided she wanted to attend the wedding, without putting herself in additional danger by announcing her presence to everyone." Casey still didn't know how much truth there was in that, but he was a soldier, and tried not to focus too heavily on the motivations of higher-ranking officers.

As if she'd heard the conversation, the General approached the bar and nodded to Casey.

She glanced at Agent Wright and said, "Another scotch." Casey nodded to him, signaling for him to retrieve the bottle of Glenlivit.

"Hello, Colonel."

"General."

* * *

Despite her apparent change of heart, it was clear that the General still wasn't happy about the wedding. She was clearly looking for a sympathetic ear, and while Casey could appreciate her disappointment, frankly he wasn't in the mood to listen. Still, she was a superior, and he had to be polite.

"I think we can figure out how to make do. This country thrived for 200 years without them, after all."

At that moment, he noticed Carina walk by. Now there was somebody who might be fun to talk to. Her borderline psychotic tendencies would be the perfect antidote to all of the pomp and circumstance of the wedding.

The General saw his attention waver, and followed his gaze. "Isn't that that DEA agent, uh…Carina?"

Casey looked back at the General. "Hmm? Oh, right. Uh, if you'd excuse me for a bit?" Carina had disappeared, but she shouldn't be that hard to find.

Unfortunately, just as soon as he'd extricated himself from Beckman, one of the younger officers came up to him. "Excuse me, Colonel? We have a problem."

* * *

Casey looked at the two agents in disdain. They were both bound and gagged, but their eyes betrayed their shame and embarrassment. No wonder the General was upset by Walker's leaving, if this was the best the CIA had left. He pulled the gag off of the nearer agent.

"Who did this to you?"

"It was Jill Roberts, sir."

"Roberts?" Casey had assumed that this was the work of Walker's father, as they had been assigned to bring him in after the reception. Casey could live with Jack Burton getting away; he was a petty criminal, but nothing more. Roberts was a different story.

"How did you find her?" He untied the two agents, and they headed back into the hall.

"She found us, sir. We were about to apprehend Burton, and she interrupted us. Then she, uh…"

"Took the two of you out?" Casey growled.

The agent paled. "Yes sir."

"Well did she say anything, about why she was here?" Casey had a pretty good idea why, but he needed to be thorough.

"Um, she was gone when we woke up."

"Wonderful."

With no sign of Roberts in or outside of the reception hall, Casey was beginning to feel disappoint weighing down on him. The lobby was the last place he hadn't checked, but rather than finding the ex-Fulcrum agent when he arrived there, he found several police officers standing around.

"John!"

Casey turned around to see Big Mike seated in a folding chair, with the groomsman Johnson standing beside him.

"What is it, Sir?" Casey hadn't gotten out of the habit of treating Big Mike as his boss, even though he had left the Buy More months ago.

"I guess you must have heard what happened, and wanted to help. I appreciate that, but my cousin has got things under control." Casey recognized the rotund cop from the Buy More hostage situation. He was taking statements from a valet while munching on a crab puff. Apparently, his investigation had already led him to the buffet table.

"Uh, what happened sir?"

"My car got stolen, man! Can you believe that. Stolen at a wedding. How low can you get?"

Casey noticed Johnson fidgeting next to Big Mike. "Uh, Sir, can I borrow Skip over here for a second? Official groomsman business."

Big Mike nodded, and Johnson approached Casey somewhat uneasily. "What is it?"

"You know who stole the car, don't you?"

"Uh, no." The kid avoided looking at Casey when he said this. He was a terrible liar.

"It was a brunette woman, dark complexion?"

Johnson shook his head, then looked around nervously. "It was Sarah's father," he whispered.

Casey nodded. He supposed that made sense. "Bartowski had you help him, didn't he?"

Johnson nodded mutely. Casey sighed. Even out of the CIA, Bartowski was still a pain in his ass. Still, Burton wasn't all that important. "And you didn't see a girl like I described?"

The younger man stood there silently for a moment, before light dawned in his eye. "I was talking to someone like that earlier. We were hitting it off, too." Casey resisted the temptation to chuckle. The poor sap was probably being used. "At least I thought so, until I saw her leave."

"She left? How long ago?"

"About 20 minutes."

Not good. She could be anywhere by now. Casey turned away, and saw Big John looking back at him, still looking concerned. "I'm sure the police will find your car," he reassured him awkwardly. "But I have to get back to my duties."

"That is one dedicated groomsman," Casey heard Big Mike remark as he headed back to the reception hall.

* * *

There was no sign of the General in the ballroom. While Casey wasn't anxious to inform her about Roberts' escape, it was his duty. Still, delaying that moment for a little while wasn't something he was going to complain about.

He looked around for anyone he could ask about the General's whereabouts. Bartowski and Walker were out. There was no need to interrupt them unless absolutely necessary. He didn't particularly want to talk with Bartowski's jittery brother-in-law either. Most of the undercover agents were either busy doing their rounds or busily maintaining their cover. Finally, he recognized someone who could help.

Montgomery was in his usual pose, with one hand on a martini glass, and the other on a girl. The girl looked vaguely familiar, though Casey wasn't sure where he had seen her before.

Montgomery smiled as Casey approached. "Ah, it's…John, right?" Casey wasn't surprised to notice that the older man was slightly tipsy.

"That's right. I just wanted to see if you were having a good time."

"Oh, wonderful, I have everything I need." The girl giggled slightly, and Casey resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Do you know Kelly?"

Before Casey could respond, the girl said, "Sure, we met at a dinner party last year, at Ellie's."

"Ah."

Montgomery interrupted the awkward pause. "So, what can I do for you, Mr. Casey?"

"Actually, I was hoping you might know where I could find Sarah's aunt. I promised her we'd finish our earlier conversation, but I don't see her anywhere."

Montgomery's eyes narrowed. "Well, she should be here somewhere. Let me see if I can help you find her." He excused himself and followed Casey to a corner of the room.

"Is something wrong?"

"Maybe. We have a fugitive situation. I need to let the General know."

"Well, last I saw, she was outside on the veranda." Montgomery took a generous sip from his martini glass. "A fugitive, you say? This wouldn't be Jill Roberts?" Montgomery chuckled at Casey's shocked expression. "It's my business to know things, Colonel."

"Right. She was here earlier, and knocked out a couple of our agents. Could be trouble."

"I doubt it. She probably saw something she didn't like, and left."

"What do you mean?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this Jill Roberts is Charles's ex. If she was going to try something, clearly it's too late now."

"Still, she was Fulcrum, so we need to find her."

"Nonsense. She was a fugitive yesterday, too. Nothing's changed. Why not relax and enjoy the night." Montgomery waved at Kelly, who was leaning against a wall halfway across the room. "I know I will."

"I still need to inform the General. I'll go check the veranda."

"Suit yourself." With a grace that belied the number of drinks he'd had, Montgomery returned to his date for the evening.

* * *

Casey was completely unprepared for the sight that greeted him on the veranda. For that matter, he was even less prepared for the sound that greeted him.

"_99 red balloons._

_floating in the summer sky._

_Panic bells, its red alert._

_There's something here from somewhere else."_

General Beckman, flanked by the Buy More's moronic duo Lester and Jeff, were singing at the top of their lungs. He'd had the misfortune of hearing Jeffster before, but adding in a female voice clearly did nothing for their sound. Plus, it was quite obvious that all three of them had been enjoying the bar far too much this evening.

"I wonder if she knows that's a protest song. By a German."

Thanks to the cacophony assaulting his ears, Casey hadn't heard the footsteps behind him. He turned around to find Carina behind him, studying the scene with amusement. "Agent Miller."

"Colonel. It doesn't look like the General can hold her liquor," she commented dryly.

"I guess not." Beckman had apparently had more than her fair share of Casey's scotch. Given their difference in sizes, it was no wonder the effect was stronger on the General. "I need to talk to her."

"I think that may have to wait until tomorrow."

Casey had come to the same realization. He thought back to Montgomery's suggestion, and decided that he was probably right anyway. There would be plenty of time to catch up to Roberts later. Besides, Carina looked really good in that dress.

Thankfully, Jeffster and its special guest had now finished their song. "Hey wait," Casey heard Lester say, "Let me go talk to the DJ. Maybe he'll let the three of us perform."

"Oh, that's not good," Carina commented, watching Lester run back inside.

"Don't worry, the DJ is one of ours. He'll have the good sense not to relinquish the microphone. If not, we can have him court-martialed."

"Hmm."

They walked over to a bench at the edge of the veranda. As he sat down, Casey felt relaxed for the first time that night. He reached into his pocket, and grabbed a cigar.

"Got one of those for me?" Carina must have seen the surprise on Casey's face, and she gave him a smirk. "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, Colonel."

Casey handed her a cigar, and lit it with his own.

"So do you think they're going to make it?"

Casey didn't understand the question at first. "Who?"

"Chuck and Sarah. Do you think they're going to last?"

"Oh." Casey thought for a moment, considering what he knew about them. "Yes."

Now it was Carina's turn to look surprised. "Really? John Casey, the romantic?"

Casey shrugged. "I can tell they're a lot better together than when they're apart. That's not romantic, that's math." After a moment, he added, "Besides, it was clear that Walker wasn't happy being with the Agency anymore. I guess for some people, the job isn't enough."

"Yeah, sucks to be them." Carina crossed her legs, a process that Casey tried valiantly not to watch. "For me, there's nothing like the satisfaction of knowing you're protecting your country."

Casey grunted in agreement. "Pursuing the enemy."

"_Catching_ the enemy. And then using whatever force is necessary to get the information needed."

They both sighed. "How can you give that up?" Casey asked.

"I have no idea. Still, I guess it's nice to see something like this happen. Shows there's hope for all of us."

Casey snorted. "Easy for you to say. You're still young."

Carina gave him a once over. "You're not old, Casey. You're still…fit."

"Well, it's not the years, it's the mileage." As he said it, Casey realized the line sounded familiar. Must have been from one of those movies Bartowski used to watch on his toy phone while on stakeouts.

"So what did you have to talk to her about?"

"Nothing that can't wait till tomorrow." Casey leaned back to enjoy the view. He had to hand it to Bartowski and Walker. They sure knew how to pick the right place. Since he'd spent so much time in California, he'd realized he really liked the ocean, so having the beach in the background certainly added to the overall appeal for him. It was almost perfect.

Except for the sight of what was now going on at the other end of the veranda.

"Are they…" Carina's voice echoed Casey's own disgust.

"Yup." Casey winced. The sight of his superior making out with somebody was bad enough. But Barnes?

"I don't think I'll ever get that out of my mind." Carina got up. "We should go inside."

"Yeah, I should probably make sure the guy with the video camera isn't around. We don't need to have a General facing blackmail." Digital evidence of her liplocking with a troglodyte could do serious damage to her career.

As they walked towards the door, Casey noticed Wu standing there. At first her face registered shock at the sight of Beckman and Barnes. But then, Casey could have sworn he saw the hint of a smile on her face.

* * *

The reception was winding down. Walker and Bartowski were in the midst of saying goodbye to a swarm of guests, while Bartowski's sister was seated at a table, her head on her husband's shoulder. To his slight amusement, Casey noticed that Roan and his new friend had seemingly disappeared for the night.

"Looks like the reception is about over," Carina commented. "Everybody's heading back to their families."

"I guess so."

"So, what do two people married to their jobs do now?"

"Well, the bar hasn't closed yet. But I think the General drank all of my whiskey."

"Hmm. It's too bad. After a night like this, I always feel a bit restless. I don't suppose a fight's going to break out around here?"

Casey looked around. Other than Patel pouting over the DJ's rejection, everyone seemed to be in noncombative spirits. "Don't think so."

"Well, I guess I'll have to figure out another way to release my aggression."

Casey raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you propose to do that, Agent Miller?"

"Oh, I'll find a way. I'm very resourceful, you know." She gave Casey a look that he had no trouble reading. "I might need some help, though."

Casey chuckled. "You think I'm forgetting about Prague. I haven't."

"I never thought you would. But I was just doing my job. I'm dedicated to my job, remember?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well, it looks to me like Chuck and Sarah are safely married, so my job here is done. So, care to see my to my hotel room, Colonel?"

Casey looked around. Eventually, all of the undercover agents would have to be debriefed. But that could wait till tomorrow. It looked like his job was finished too. But perhaps, his night was only beginning.

He just hoped there was scotch in her minibar.

* * *

_Thanks to my raging egomania, I guess, this chapter has a reference to one of my other stories ("Awkward Social Engagements on a Sunday") which explains the dinner that Kelly refers to. Or maybe it's just that I like recycling characters because I'm too lazy to make up new names. Or maybe it's a bit of both._

_Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Writing Casey is always fun._


	11. The Bride

_Thanks to everyone that gave me a mention in the Awesome Awards thread, especially since I've been so horribly lax in updating this story. And even more especially since there are so many great authors here. If I could give you all a little percentage of 'Chuck', I would._

_But I can't, since I don't own it._

**The Bride**

"I'm not so sure about this veil."

Sarah studied her reflection in the mirror as she said this. She did have a sense of what looked good on her, after all, thanks to years of dressing up for undercover formal events. She knew exactly what to put in to elicit the biggest reaction from a mark. Still, none of those little black dresses had been as important as this white one, and it wasn't for any mark.

Despite that, Sarah knew that a small part of her didn't like the veil because of the reduced visibility. Even if the rest of her knew that assassins wouldn't be lurking behind every corner during her wedding.

"I think it looks great, Sarah."

Ellie's words didn't change Sarah's opionion. Instead they reminded her of her future sister-in-law's own wedding. When assassins actually had been lurking behind every corner. Still, that was a long time ago now. If not in time exactly, at least in her life.

Unlike most women, Sarah hadn't spent much of her younger years dreaming of her wedding day. Life with her father had been spent on less girly things, like trying to convince stockbrokers that she was the long-lost product of a one-night stand. Taking advantage of men's baser needs and insecurities was something she had long understood. The mysteries of wedding dress shopping, not as much.

Fortunately, she had brought backup. Sarah had come to think of her new friends in wedding-dom as her 'team,' fellow agents ideally suited for a mission such as this one.

Eleanor Woodcomb was clearly the veteran of the group, being a recent bride herself. She knew exactly where to look, what to ask for, and what to demand. And she knew when to offer the perfect words of encouragement or advice. It was like having one's own wedding handler. Or as most people would call it, Sarah supposed, her matron-of-honor (or maid of honor, as Ellie insisted on being referred to).

Anna Wu's skill set was more geared towards espionage. She'd manage to learn about special sales by listening in to other women's conversations, tricked another bride-to-be to give up on her perfect dress by pretending to be a sales lady, and had even used some intimidation tactics while discussing prices. Casey had once told Sarah that he thought Anna would make a good agent. Sarah could believe it.

Her other two bridesmaids were on separate missions. Dinah was covering the home front, covering today's self defense class. Dinah brought a lot of experience to her role in the company she had founded with Sarah and Anna. She understood the business side, which Sarah certainly didn't. She also was a good teacher, both to the students and to Sarah herself. While she hadn't known her as long as she had Ellie and Anna, Sarah had come to appreciate Dinah as a partner.

The final bridesmaid was on a mission of a different sort. Of course, none of the other bridesmaids understood Carina's real job, and assumed she was on a sales call, rather than trying to intercept a shipment of high-grade heroin. Sarah had known Carina much longer than she had known the other bridesmaids, yet her role on the team was still as-yet undefined. So far, all she had done was try to convince Sarah she was making a mistake, which had led to a long, tiresome phone call the previous night.

"Isn't Chuck going to be amazed at how beautiful she is, Anna?"

Ellie's question returned Sarah's thoughts to the present. She smiled at the brunette, and then turned to Anna, who nodded mutely.

"Everything ok, Anna?"

It took a moment for Sarah to realize that Anna had been quiet for the last half hour or so, which was unusual. She silently admonished herself for being too deep in her own thoughts to notice. Agents, and friends, don't focus on themselves, though she had been told that brides sometimes do.

"Yeah, I'm great."

While Ellie didn't possess Sarah's interrogation skills, it was clear that the doctor didn't believe Anna either. "Sure you are. What's going on?"

Anna sighed. "Morgan and I broke up last night."

Sarah resisted the urge to say "Again?" Ellie didn't.

"Yeah, I know."

"What happened this time?"

"He was supposed to meet me and my parents at dinner. Instead, he went off to buy some comic book. With your fiancée, by the way." Anna pointed a finger at Sarah.

Ellie gave Sarah a surprised glance. "He's still buying comic books? You haven't gotten him to stop?"

Sarah was surprised by the question. She couldn't imagine anywhere safer than a comic book store. And she'd seen enough in her life to know that spending a few hours a week with comic books was a harmless way to spend time. And secrets did too much damage.

Sarah gave her two bridesmaids a more abbreviated response. "No. Why?"

"Well, it's a bit…childish," Anna responded.

"Chuck isn't a child. Believe me. A comic book won't change that. And why should I want to change Chuck? I love him the way he is." Sarah still found herself surprised when she stated this aloud.

"Well yeah," Anna mumbled, "if _I _could date Chuck, I'd be happy with him too…" She looked, alarmed, after saying this. "I didn't mean it like that."

Sarah's glare lasted only seconds. After all, she wasn't really worried about Anna. And she was still trying to understand the thought of changing Chuck. She guessed that, even despite the many years' advantage Ellie had on her, she still knew Chuck better. And that wasn't just because of the missions and the CIA.

But had she changed? Sarah looked back in the mirror. Was the woman staring back at her the same person she'd been before Chuck?

* * *

"I'm not so sure about this."

The helmet certainly looked ridiculous, but that wasn't why Sarah objected. It was the purpose behind it.

Despite this, she put it on, and glanced at her reflection in the compact mirror. It looked something like a batting helmet, though without the bill in the front, and there were several tiny sensors inside.

"It's the only way, Sarah."

Sarah turned to look at the man who had said this. Stephen Bartowski stood at the other end of the Castle conference room, patiently waiting for her. He came over to her, checked the fit of the helmet, and nodded approvingly. Then he turned back to his laptop, and typed in a few brief commands. "Ok. We should be all set."

"It's not going to work."

Stephen Bartowski glanced back at his son as this was said. At first he appeared to be offended, as if his skills were being questioned. But after a moment, he nodded.

"Maybe, maybe not. But this is what Beckman wants. It's the only way she'd agree to let Sarah go."

Sarah remembered when Chuck's father had told them of his conversation with Beckman. After the General's initial reaction about Sarah's plan to leave the CIA, she was amazed that Orion could get her to change her mind so easily. Still, the General's final request, while odd, had been firm. Sarah would help build a new Intersect.

Sarah supposed she should be flattered that Beckman had felt that her skills were valuable enough to be uploaded. She'd never really considered where all of the fighting, bomb defusing, and other skills in the Intersect had come from, but she supposed it made sense that they had to come from actual people. And now they were building one based on her.

Still, it felt dehumanizing more than anything. That they could take a small piece of her, and discard the rest. Even after all of her years of faithful service. But she could get over it. It made it even more clear that the sacrifice she was making was completely worth it.

She turned to Chuck, who was smiling at her. She could see the amusement in his eyes, probably at the sight of her in the helmet. She stuck her tongue out at him in response.

"I can't believe Beckman thinks that she can just replace you this way," Chuck commented, immediately turning serious. "There's way more to you than your brain. Not really what I meant," he added hastily at Sarah's raised eyebrow. "But you're a great Agent because of a lot more than what's in there," he said, pointing to her head.

"I'm not disagreeing with you, son. But it's what she asked for. And it's what we're giving her." Stephen glanced over at Sarah, but she barely noticed as she was still staring at Chuck. It was amazing how he could always say the exact right things.

"Uh son, maybe you should go upstairs and wait." Orion glanced back at Sarah. "We need her focusing on what she's doing. And any _other_ thoughts creeping in her mind will throw things off."

Sarah felt herself flush slightly at that. She wasn't sure about the idea of having a father-in-law who spoke so matter-of-factly about sex. In a way, he was like a shorter, more techno-savvy Carina.

This brought Sarah's thoughts back to the conversation she'd had with the DEA agent right before the wedding dress fitting two weeks ago. She'd expressed surprise and amusement at the mention of Sarah's marrying Chuck, but downright shock and disappointment at the mention of leaving the CIA. Her feelings were clear. She was giving up her own career, her own self, just to be a typical housewife. All of Sarah's arguments had fallen on deaf ears. Instead, Carina kept telling her that she'd changed, and that change was for the worse. What she'd expected to hear from the General, she'd been disappointed to also hear from her supposed friend. Still, Carina had agreed to be a bridesmaid, though this may have been some last-ditch ploy to talk Sarah out of it.

"Now, we should be just about ready." Stephen said after Chuck had left, bringing Sarah's thoughts back to the present. "Where's your sparring partner?"

"Here." John Casey mumbled as he walked in from Castle's armory.

* * *

"We got it," Stephen said an hour later, as Sarah wiped her brow. It had certainly been a good workout. They had simulated every imaginable battle scenario, with Casey coming at her from various angles and positions, wielding a varied arsenal of weaponry. Of course, Sarah had been ready for all of them.

"So we're done?" she asked in response.

"Well, we'll still need to get some marksmanship scenarios, which we can do off-site tomorrow. But the hand-to-hand combat part should be finished."

"Good," Casey groaned from the floor.

Sarah looked down in concern. She clearly hadn't had the worst part of this particular job. She held out a hand, and the male agent grabbed it and returned to his feet.

Sarah removed the helmet and handed it to Stephen, who took it along with the laptop and headed upstairs.

"You alright?" Sarah asked Casey.

"Been worse," Casey rumbled. "Been better, though. You certainly seemed…enthusiastic."

"Sorry." Sarah could see curiosity, and possibly even concern, in Casey's eyes, and she couldn't resist the temptation to take advantage of the rare opportunity. "Casey?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I've changed?"

The NSA Agent looked momentarily surprised, then amused. "Changed? You mean, has Bartowski messed you up?"

"Well, no," Sarah responded, though she knew that, in a way, that was what she was asking. "But am I the same person I was when I started this mission?"

Casey shrugged. "In some ways, I suppose not. But for the most part I'd say no. Why? Is this about Beckman?"

Sarah sat down on the exercise mat. "Not just her, I guess. Carina told me that I never would have abandoned the CIA before this mission."

Casey snorted. "Carina. Has it occurred to you that maybe she doesn't actually know you that well? How often has she seen you the last few years? For that matter, how often did you see each other before this mission?"

Sarah had to admit that Casey had a point. After they'd left the academy, Sarah and Carina had only managed to meet up between missions, and that had been occurring more and more rarely.

"So you don't think I'm abandoning the CIA? Abandoning my country?"

"You've done more for this country than anyone could hope for. And as for the CIA? Carina has it wrong. It's the CIA that's changed. It's not about the agents any more." Casey waved toward the other room. "It's all about Intersects now. Trying to 'build' an agent, rather than train one. Bartowski had it right. Sticking your brainwaves in some green agent isn't going to work." Casey smirked. "Then again, you're talking to somebody with a very low opinion of the CIA to begin with."

Sarah sat there for a few moments, considering Casey's words, before he spoke again. "So to answer your question, no. Bartowski didn't turn you into a marshmallow. You always were one."

Sarah felt her lip curl up in a smile. "Thanks, Casey. So what about you? Aren't you being pushed out too?"

"Probably. But maybe I can slow down the 'progress' a bit."

Sarah stood up. "Well, just be careful out there."

Casey smiled ruefully. "As long as I'm not facing you, I think I'll be fine."

"I'm serious." Sarah debated whether to say more, not knowing how it would be received. "You know, I never had an older brother…"

Casey held a hand up, but didn't appear upset by the statement. In fact he smiled slightly. "I'll be careful, don't worry." His eyes narrowed. "But don't take this to mean that Bartowski's my brother, married or no."

Sarah smiled. "Of course not." As she headed towards the stairs, she turned back briefly. "Vaya con dios, John."

"Vaya con dios, Sam."

* * *

"So, you going to miss this place?" Chuck asked Sarah as they headed off to lunch. She turned around to study the Orange Orange. With the CIA soon behind her, along with any need to access Castle, she would no longer be slinging yogurt for the rare customer.

"Not really." Sarah didn't say anything further, and she could feel Chuck's eyes studying her.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah." Her talk with Casey had helped. She didn't hold any bitterness toward the CIA, but she didn't disagree with what he had said about the agency. She really didn't fit in anymore. She wasn't sad for herself exactly, but felt sad anyway.

"If there's one thing all those years at the Buy More taught me," Chuck spoke up, "it's that your job doesn't define you."

Sarah smiled, wondering how Chuck always managed to know what she was thinking. Would it be so bad if he had managed to rub off on her a bit?

"So, you working this afternoon?" Chuck asked.

"Well, I've got one class to teach, and then I've got a mandatory bridesmaid meeting after that."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Ellie?"

"Yup."

"Sarah, you know how much I appreciate your letting her be a part of all of this." Chuck took her hand.

"Of course. But I'd be totally lost without her."

"Well, I'm glad anyway. I can't imagine her not being a part of our wedding."

"Yeah, and could you imagine how she would react if she found out we were already married?"

Chuck shuddered. "I think I'd rather face Fulcrum again. Especially now that she's taking your class."

"She's doing well, too, so you'd better be careful."

"Well, you're a great teacher," Chuck leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. "So, off to lunch?"

"Actually, I want to take a quick shower first."

"Yeah, you are kind of sporting the hat head," Chuck grinned at her.

"Hmm. Just for that, I'll be taking this shower alone."

Sarah could tell that Chuck's pout wasn't serious. "Ok then. I'll meet you at the restaurant in an hour?"

"Of course." After another quick kiss, Sarah watched Chuck leave. No, there was no question about it. She had made a lot of decisions in her life, but never as good as the ones she'd made lately. She enjoyed teaching. Even if was on a smaller scale, she was still making a difference. And she got to be herself doing it. The self that the CIA, Beckman and Carina didn't know, but Chuck – and apparently Casey- did. And marrying Chuck, there never really was a question about that.

Sarah found her car in the shopping center parking lot, got in, and drove away from her old life, without even a glance in the rear view mirror.

* * *

_It's occurred to me that the chapter about 'The Bride' had less wedding-do than any of the other chapters, and that is a bit odd. But, much of this story has come to revolve around Sarah's choice to leave the CIA (and the show went and removed all of that conflict with a train ride and an 'It's about damn time') I figured it was something that made more sense than a bouquet throwing scene. Hope no one's too disappointed. The next, and last, chapter will be more wedding-focused._


	12. The Groom

_I don't own 'Chuck.' But maybe the producers will let me have a small piece, especially if they like my spin-off suggestion: "John Casey, Library Cop." It just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?_

**The Groom**

Don't. Freak. Out.

Never had those words felt more fitting to Chuck, which he had to admit was rather odd. After all, he'd faced the wrong end of a semi-automatic weapon more times than he would like to think of, and watching time tick downward on bombs had become so familiar to him that he half expected Dick Clark to be there counting along. So looking into the eyes of his great-aunt Ida from Portland should be no big deal.

But here he was, standing at the altar, and his palms were sweating. Despite the fact that all those faces looking at him were smiling and offering silent encouragement. Well, almost all, he thought to himself as he saw General Beckman in the second row.

So why was he so nervous? Especially since this whole thing was already a done deal.

Chuck shifted his weight from foot to foot until the sound of the church door finally caught his attention. And then the woman entering caught his breath.

Even the surprising sight of Jack Burton walking with her couldn't take Chuck's attention away from Sarah. As he marveled at the sight of her in her wedding dress, he once again struggled to believe that she had said yes to him. Especially considering the way that he had asked.

* * *

"I thought this only happened in movies!" Chuck yelled as the rushing water rose to his waist. Sarah was desperately looking around the tank for any sort of opening, but the water level was quickly rising.

"Nothing," Sarah yelled back. "The metal is perfectly smooth. No way to climb up. Chuck, you're sure you can't flash on something?"

"Like what? I don't think Spiderman's skill set made its way into the Intersect when they built the thing." He looked around frantically, and then spoke again. "Sarah, I don't think we're going to make it."

"Don't say that."

"Sarah, I love you."

"Yes, Chuck. I love you too. But now's not the time."

"I think it's the only time we've got. And I have to do something while I still have the chance."

"Chuck…"

"Sarah, will you marry me?"

"What?" Sarah turned around and gave Chuck an alarmed look.

"I was going to ask you anyway, in a slightly more romantic setting. But I'm guessing a string quartet and a flock of doves aren't about to show up in here, and I left the ring with Morgan, so I pretty much have to make do like this."

Chuck pushed himself down on one knee, causing the water to reach close to his neck.

"Chuck, for God sakes, get back up."

"Sarah, will you make me the happiest man on Earth, and be my wife? Even if it's only for a few minutes."

"Chuck, please. Help me find a way out."

"Sarah, please answer me."

"Chuck, we don't have time for this."

"Sarah. Will you marry me?" Chuck asked again.

"Yes. Yes I will marry you."

Chuck splashed over to Sarah as soon as she said this. Their embrace was cut short, however, by the sound of a torch coming from the top of the well.

"Just once I'd like to break you two out of a jam and find you actually in distress," Casey's voice called from above.

Once they had climbed up the rope, Chuck turned to Sarah. "So listen, Sarah, I realize that everything that I said down there was a bit, uh, so I'd understand if you…"

Sarah grabbed Chuck's shirt. "Don't you dare take it back, Chuck. And get that ring from Morgan. What persuaded you to leave it with him anyway?"

"What else was I going to do, leave it in the house with a trained spy?"

* * *

Chuck's attention returned to the present as his bride reached the dais. He gave a quick questioning glance toward her departing father, and Sarah shrugged in return. He looked over at the minister, and saw that he was ready. Everybody was ready, so he had better remember those vows. Easier said then done, Chuck thought to himself. Remembering one set was bad enough, but having two different sets was even harder.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony." Chuck looked over at the wedding party, and returned Ellie's beaming smile, before turning his attention back to Sarah.

As he did this, Chuck found himself thinking about when she had first explained why two ceremonies would be necessary.

* * *

"Chuck, we need to talk."

The words had greeted Chuck as soon as he had returned home from work. He could feel the panic rise through his legs and head straight for his heart.

"You don't want to marry me."

Sarah smiled briefly. "Actually, it's kind of the opposite."

"Um, ok?"

Sarah walked up to Chuck and took his hands in hers. "Chuck, before you can marry Sarah Walker, you have to marry Sam Waterford."

Chuck took a moment to process this. "Uh, Sarah, if this is some sort of 'Big Love' thing, then I'm not really…" Finally, the meaning of what Sarah had said reached his brain. "Wait, that's your real name, isn't it? Samantha Lisa Waterford."

"Please to meet you at last." Her face turned serious. "But that's kind of the problem. Any marriage license with 'Sarah Walker' signed on it won't be legal."

Chuck felt his face fall as he began to see the dilemma. "But that would mean we can't have a real ceremony! Just some paperwork. Morgan and Devon couldn't be there. Ellie couldn't be there!" Chuck felt himself getting more frantic. If he got married without Ellie there, she'd kill him. And then she'd kill Sarah.

"I want them to be at our wedding too, Chuck. And we will still have a big ceremony with them. We just need to do another quick ceremony before. I know there are a few people in the CIA that can organize this kind of thing. All we need is to assemble the paperwork, find someone to perform the ceremony, and a couple of witnesses, and it will be done as quick as that. And then we can concentrate on the big ceremony with everybody we want to be there."

Chuck nodded. Actually, it didn't sound too bad. "Hey, does this mean we get two honeymoons?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Probably not. But it would mean two wedding nights…"

A smile quickly crept up Chuck's face. "Well, you've sold me."

* * *

Chuck realized that reminiscing about that first wedding night would be a bad idea given his current surroundings. A quick glance at Great-Aunt Ida quickly took care of any remaining inappropriate thoughts, and he returned his attention back to the minister.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" the minister asked, casting his gaze over the pews.

"I do." Jack Burton stood up briefly.

The minister looked surprised; in the rehearsal, that line had been spoken, rather unenthusiastically, by General Beckman. Chuck noticed that Sarah had briefly straightened as the question had been asked. Clearly, she hadn't known what to expect there, either.

Chuck snuck a brief glance at his own father. A year ago, he was a deadbeat, someone Chuck would never dream of trusting. And yet now, he had become someone who had managed remove two Intersects, convinced the CIA to let both Chuck and Sarah go, and coordinate a top-secret CIA wedding. He didn't understand how all of this could have been done, and he worried that Orion may have made a deal sacrificing his own freedom for that of his son. Chuck knew that his father would never admit this, but he was grateful for whatever it was he had done. Even if that first wedding hadn't exactly been one he'd always dreamed about.

* * *

Chuck hadn't known what to expect that day he arrived at the address his father had given. He was told to arrive at the address at 3:00 sharp dressed in a suit, and that Sarah would already be there.

Stephen Bartowski opened the door before Chuck could knock. "Good, you're here. You ready, son?"

"I'm not really sure." Chuck admitted as he followed his father inside.

"Sorry this place doesn't look like much. CIA safe houses aren't known for their atmosphere, and I was only able to get access to it this morning." Chuck's father wasn't kidding. The walls of the foyer were covered with graying wallpaper, with only an old scratched mirror as decoration. The hall ended at a large, sparsely furnished living room. Here there were a few decorative touches, with a few tables holding vases of flowers surrounding a podium standing at the middle. The room was light, thanks to two large windows on opposite walls; however, the bars across them somewhat diminished the atmosphere.

"As your mother could have told you, I was never exactly the romantic type, but hopefully it's not too bad."

"As long as we can make this wedding happen, we can save the romantic touches for the real wedding." Chuck still considered the later wedding as the real one, even if it technically wasn't. "I've got Ellie on my side for that one."

"She'll be great at that," Stephen smiled. "And we will get this official one done. Beckman only lent us this place for the day, plus a couple of agents."

"A couple of agents?"

"Hello, Charles."

Chuck turned to see three figures enter the room. Chuck smiled as he saw the speaker. "Roan!"

"Good to see you, my boy. It looks like my advice paid off. Still, I don't suppose I can take the time to remind you of the advantages of a single lifestyle. It's quite a lot to give up."

Chuck shook his head. "Oh well," the older man sighed.

Chuck looked behind Roan, and saw two other figures he recognized. Casey didn't look particularly thrilled to be there, but his usual scowl had been replaced by a somewhat more somber 'special occasion' face.

The woman standing beside Casey didn't attempt to hide her opinion of the situation. Her glare brought the temperature in the room down by about ten degrees. Chuck was surprised that the flowers in the room could survive her presence.

"Agent Forrest?" Chuck asked in surprise.

"Bartowski," she merely said in response. "Can we get this over with?" she turned to Chuck's father.

"We tried to find Carina," Casey explained, "but she's out of the country on a mission."

"She had the right idea."

"Now remember our agreement, Agent," Stephen said. "You cooperate, nicely, and be happy for my son." Chuck was surprised to see Agent Forrest whiten at his father's words.

"So who's performing the ceremony?" Chuck asked.

"That would be me," Roan said. "In one of my many missions, I became an ordained minister with the Order of the Holy Shot Glass. They operate out of Las Vegas," he added in explanation. "I can also perform weddings in Norway, Thailand, and several Caribbean nations, and can sell real estate in Belgium. Ah," he said, looking past Chuck's shoulder. "Here's the bride-to-be, so I guess we're set."

* * *

"If there is anyone here who has just cause to believe these two should not be wed, then speak now or forever hold your peace."

Chuck tried to subtly glance over at General Beckman, now seated by Sarah's father. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Sarah did the same. The General, while grimacing, said nothing.

"Ok then," the minister continued. "Charles and Sarah have written their own vows, so at this time I will ask that they go ahead and…take over the show."

The minister's flippancy didn't calm Chuck, as he struggled to remember the words he'd prepared. Instead of the vows he'd prepared for this ceremony, his mind immediately jumped to what he'd said at the first one.

* * *

Perhaps due to his unusually high level of sobriety, Roan Montgomery moved quickly through the brief ceremony, pausing only slightly when asking if anyone objected to the ceremony. Agent Forrest looked like she wanted to speak up, but one look at Stephen seemed to quickly convince her otherwise. A few moments later, Roan looked over at Chuck and said, "Your turn, Charles."

Chuck hadn't been sure what kind of ceremony this had been intended to be, but he had prepared something just in case. So, he turned to his bride-to-be, and spoke the words he had just finished memorizing in the car.

"Sam, you came here to be my protector. To keep me safe, just because I'd had the bad luck to get the Intersect stuck in my head. To rescue me from all sorts of scary-looking guys with scary-looking guns."

"Sam, you rescued me from every one of those scary-looking bad guys. But you did more. You rescued me from me."

* * *

Rather than confuse him, the memory of his first vows merely helped Chuck focus. Turning to his bride, he began.

"Sarah, when you walked in the Buy More that day after we first met and asked me if your phone was still broken because you hadn't gotten a call from me, I didn't know what to think." There was a brief tittering from the crowd, and Chuck thought he saw Sarah's eyes narrow slightly. He hadn't really considered that she might be a bit embarrassed about having to use a line like that. Still, he continued.

"Here was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, saying that she wanted to go out with me. To be honest, I thought you'd been sent as some kind of joke. It turns out, you were sent to save me."

Chuck saw some alarm in the eyes of Sarah, and an annoyed grunt came from the general direction of Casey standing behind him. "You saved me from the hole I'd dug for myself. I had gone through a…. long rough patch in my life, and I was ready to give up on myself. I couldn't think how anybody could possibly believe in me."

"But after meeting you, I realized that if somebody as amazing as you could look at me and see something good, then maybe I should too."

* * *

"Sam, you taught me a lot on those missions, turning me from some frightened kid who had no idea what he was doing…" The sound Chuck heard could only be described as a stereophonic grunt, with both Casey and Forrest expressed their opinions simultaneously. "…to someone that could actually be relied upon. To someone who believed in himself." This led to another set of snickering, though Forrest's was louder than Casey's.

"Sam, I got to see myself through your eyes, and for that I never hope to be able to repay you."

* * *

"But, Sarah, I hope to spend the rest of my life trying."

* * *

"So Sam, I got to become a better person through being with you on missions. I got to see how you always did what you felt was right, no matter what. How you always saw the best in people. And how you kicked serious ass every time." Sarah smiled briefly, though Agent Forrest rolled her eyes.

"So yes, I fell in love with you. And I'll always wonder why the CIA never expected this would happen. They must have never paid much attention to you, because anyone spending at least a little time with you couldn't help but fall in love with you."

"And since I've come to learn that you actually love me too, you've made me the happiest man in the world and I'll make it my mission to make you happiest woman in the world every day."

* * *

"And so, Sarah, it may have taken me three years, but I've finally gotten your message. I promise that every day I will work harder to be worthy of the love you have given me, and that has made me the happiest man in the world. So I will do everything I possibly can as your husband to make every day for you even happier than the last."

Chuck nodded to the minister once he had finished, then turned back to his bride. Sarah was beaming behind her veil. Glancing behind her, Chuck could see that Ellie was now weeping openly, though she managed to flash a quick grin as her gaze met his.

"Now Sarah, your vows."

Chuck knew that Sarah's vows would be similar to the last ceremony, since she didn't have to worry about leaving out as many details, or changing any names.

"Chuck, I have never met anyone like you in my life. I've never met someone as open as you, as giving as you, as fiercely protective of the people he loves as you."

Chuck smiled. Unlike the last ceremony, she'd left out, "Even if you never stay in the car."

"I know you think that you were the lucky one when I first approached you in the Buy More. But that was never true. I was the one that got to learn to see that there was more to me than I could ever believe. That my job didn't define me, my family didn't define me, my past didn't define me. I saw myself in your eyes, Chuck, and it was like I met 'Sarah Walker' for the first time."

"So, Chuck Bartowski, I stand here today to tell you that I love you so very much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Chuck looked over after Sarah had finished, and to his surprise, Ellie was now offering a tissue to a grateful Carina. Looking behind, he could see Morgan give him a thumbs-up, Devon mouth a silent 'awesome', and Casey give what could only be described as a very sentimental-sounding grunt.

The church was silent for a moment, as all eyes turned towards the best man. Morgan finally realized what was happening when the minister let out a subtle harrumph. He stuck his hand into his pocket, fished out the rings, and handed them to the minister. Taking one, Chuck placed it on Sarah's finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."

During the rehearsal, he had laughed at the odd formality of that line, and had suggested that he and Morgan should start doing Monty Python's black knight bit at that point of the ceremony. Fortunately, and due in part to the threats he had received from the bride, the matron-of-honor, and Casey, he decided against doing this, though he heard a disappointed sigh from his best man.

Sarah put the ring on his finger, and then smiled up at him.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the minister said. "You may kiss the bride."

During the first ceremony, the kiss had been a chaste on that still managed to have been interrupted by an annoyed 'Oh dear God' from Agent Forrest. This time, without any interruptions, Chuck managed to make up for it. And then some.

* * *

"Well, we did it." Chuck and Sarah were seated in the back of the limousine, her hand in his. Chuck could feel the relief mingling with all of his exhaustion. No incidents, neither national security nor catering-related, had occurred.

"Yeah we did."

"I think everybody had a good time. Even Beckman seemed ok after a while."

Sarah nodded. "I hope somebody gives her a ride back to the hotel."

Chuck could see that his new wife was tired, and put his arm around her. She moved closer and put her head on his shoulder. "I guess I've finally made an honest woman out of you."

Sarah smiled. "Actually, you did that two months ago."

"True, but now everybody knows it."

Chuck watched Sarah look out through the limousine's tinted window for a moment. "You know, this is the first time in years that we don't have to lie about anything," she said. "No missions, no pretending we weren't already married. I've even got a name that's really mine again. Bartowski." She pronounced the name with an air of satisfaction and no trace of irony.

"You still have to go by the name Sarah, though." Chuck thought about it for a moment. "Maybe I can kind of ease things back to 'Sam.' Start calling you Sammah for a while until people get used to it."

"Please don't." As the limousine pulled into the hotel parking lot, Sarah said, "I've come to think of myself as Sarah anyway. Your vows, they meant more to me when they were said to Sarah than they did two months ago when you said them to Sam."

The limousine driver, one of the young CIA agents Casey had brought in for the occasion, opened the door to the limousine and helped Sarah out of the car. Chuck gave him a brief nod before heading into the hotel.

As he was opening the door to their suite, Chuck turned to Sarah. "I love you, Mrs. Bartowski."

"I love you, Mr. Bartowski."

Chuck shut the door behind him, making sure the 'Do not disturb' sign hung over the knob.


	13. Epilogue: Scenes from the Morning After

**Epilogue: Scenes From the Morning After  
**

**Room 324**

"So for a boy, I'm thinking Brock, or Apollo."

"Apollo?" Ellie looked up at her husband, who had found a convenient ledge in the hotel room, and was now in the middle of his ninth pull-up. "Do you want our child to grow up to become a fictional boxer?"

"I just want our baby to have a name that jumps out there, that tells the world 'I am awesome.'"

"Devon, honey, our child is going to be awesome no matter what name we give him or her. We're going to give it all of the love in the world. That's what really matters. Giving it a name like Thor, Granite, or Uranium isn't going to change anything, it's just going to lead to a lot of schoolyard teasing."

"Maybe you're right." Devon finished his pull-ups and headed over to the bed to kiss his wife. "You are going to be a great mother."

"I know. And you're going to be a great father. Assuming you hold off on those rock climbing bonding trips until our child can tie its shoes. And needs to shave."

"And if it's a girl?"

"Then you still wait till she needs to shave."

"Hmm." Devon flipped through the overnight bag until he found a shirt he liked. "You know, a girl would be awesome too. I'm thinking Magnolia or Aphrodite."

Ellie sighed. It was going to be a long nine months.

**Room 417**

Carina felt the warmth of the sun wake her up, and stretched her legs under the covers. She was about to stretch out her arms as well, when she felt something keeping her from moving. Through he sleep-blurred eyes, she saw a handcuff on one wrist. "What the…"

She whirled around, but saw no sign of her previous evening's companion. "Casey!"

"What?" John Casey emerged from the bathroom, his face all innocence.

"You have got to be kidding me. Unlock me!"

"What, you've never heard the phrase 'turnabout is fair play?'"

Casey had heard the phrases Carina offered in return many times, but it still didn't keep him from wincing slightly when he heard her say them.

"Unlock me!" she repeated after she'd finished with her litany of curses.

"Well I would, Carina, but I've got a fugitive I have to catch up to. It's a matter of national security. You understand."

"John Casey, if you don't let me free right now, I swear to God it will take every last agent in the NSA to find all of the pieces of you!"

Casey looked amused for a moment, before he finally relented. "The keys are on top of the headboard."

Carina looked up and saw the keys at the other end of the headboard, out of the reach of her free arm. She flipped herself over so that the back her head was on the pillow and her legs were pointed towards the wall. With one foot, she managed to pick up the keys and drop them close to her other hand. She flipped back around, grabbed the keys, and unlocked herself.

All of this gave Casey quite a show, especially considering what she'd been wearing when she had gone to sleep the prior night. Which was absolutely nothing. "Damn," he said appreciatively.

"Uh huh, I hope you've had your fun now." Carina got up and went to gather up her underwear.

"Please. Like you didn't enjoy that."

"Don't you have a fugitive to catch?" Carina asked, rather than respond. She looked around the room, but didn't see the bridesmaid's dress. Finally, she heard the gruff sound of Casey clearing his throat, and looked up to see him pointing up at the ceiling fan. She sighed, and reached up to grab the dress as it rotated by.

"So, how long are you going to be off chasing this fugitive?" Carina asked as she put on the dress.

"Shouldn't be long. But after that, I've got a mission in Chile." He answered this from behind Carina, and she felt a hand pull her dress's zipper back up. "You?"

"Sierra Leone in a week. Probably for three months or so. After that, I should be in Los Angeles for a few days."

Casey smiled briefly, recognizing the unspoken question. Then the smile quickly disappeared. "Once I'm done in Chile I'm supposed to return to DC. I'm not going to be stationed here anymore." After a quiet moment, he added, "I'm sure you'll have to check in at headquarters there at some point."

"I don't know. The DEA doesn't really see me as 'Congressional Testimony material,' so they usually keep me away from DC. Who knows where they'll send me."

"Well I'm sure we'll run into each other at some point."

Carina looked at him with a slightly sad look, before it quickly vanished and was replaced with a predatory smile. "Be careful what you wish for, Agent. As you said, turnabout is fair play."

**Room 522**

Skip stared at the pale light of his laptop, the blinking cursor mocking him. Here he was, on a rare day off from the Buy More, the perfect chance to work on his screenplay. And yet, nothing was coming.

He thought back to the events of the previous night. All the screenwriting guides and websites suggested he should write about what he knew. Unfortunately, what he knew about globetrotting aliens bent on taking over the world came from other screenplays.

He needed a hero. Somebody who could talk his way out of tense situations, who could outsmart people when he needed to, but wouldn't be afraid to fight when necessary. The perfect person to stop the impending doom of an alien invasion. Someone who had seen it all, but still had a quip ready for every occasion.

The mental image came to him quickly. He began typing.

_Scene 1._

_James Barton is running down a dark street. He looks back to see if the thugs are still pursuing him. Hearing the sound of footsteps, he turns into a driveway and soon approaches a lavish party. Several expensive cars line the path, and he sees a valet station up ahead._

_Barton: Excuse me, is this the party of Chief Justice Bernard?_

_Valet: Yes, but it's a private party._

_Barton: That's ok. I just need a moment of your time._

Skip smiled. He could practically picture himself at the premiere night, with a starlet on each arm. Briefly, he considered who would play Barton, and wondered if Bruce Willis would be available. Either him, or the guy who played the boss in 'Office Space.'

**Room 309**

"Morgan, wake up!"

"Hmm, what?" Morgan groggily muttered before looking up at Anna. "Morning, sweetie."

"Morgan, you have to work today, right?" Anna had clearly been up for a while, as she was fully dressed. The stern look on her face once again reminded Morgan that she was not a morning person.

"Well, I guess, but there's no way Big Mike could expect me to work after last night's festivities."

Anna sighed. "Morgan, I got back together with you because I thought you were ready to become a more responsible person. A person who goes to work when he's supposed to."

"I thought you got back together with me because Jeff hooked up?"

Anna waved this aside. "So how about showing me I made the right choice and getting up. I hear there's a new Assistant Manager position open."

"Anna. Anna Banana, I've been thinking about this." Morgan sat up. "What's an Assistant Manager's position, anyway?"

"It's a paycheck, and I don't make enough with the self defense studio to support both of us."

"Right, that's why I'm thinking about something that will make us a ton of money." Ignoring Anna's skeptical look, he said, "'Morgan Grimes' Guide to Being a Best Man.' I promise you, it will be a best-seller!"

Anna wasn't impressed. "And exactly how many times have you been a best man?"

"Well, once. But I was great yesterday. Didn't you hear my speech?"

"It's still hardly enough to write a book about." Anna protested, her arms folded in front of her.

"Right, that's why I'm going to have to do a lot of research. I figure, crash a few weddings each month, see what people do. Oh, and bachelor parties! I'll have to devote at least one chapter for that. So I'm going to have to go to a lot of those. I guess I should probably go to the strip clubs and wait for the parties to show up. Oh, it's going to be great!"

Morgan looked up, and blanched slightly at Anna's cold expression. "You're about to break up with me again, aren't you?"

Anna didn't respond, but just kept staring at him.

"Maybe I should head off to the Buy More. You know, I'd bet I'd look good in a green vest."

**Room 242**

Jeff woke up to find himself lying on the floor. For a moment, the less than ample supply of functioning brain cells struggled with the vague memories of the previous night. Finally, the sight of two wine glasses, including one with lipstick smeared on it, clued him in.

"Diane!" he called out, getting to his feet. He checked the bathroom, but it was empty. Next he checked the balcony, the closet, and underneath his bed. It was obvious that she was gone, which he realized five minutes later.

Pushing his hand into his hair, he let out a sigh. As he did so, he felt a bump at the top of his forehead. "She hit me," he said as the realization hit.

"She hit me," he repeated again, with more enthusiasm. A smile hit his face, and he fell back on the bed, hugging the pillow.

"I think I'm in love."

**Room 125**

"Good morning, Mrs. Bartowski."

"Mmm, morning, Mr. Bartowski." Sarah's lips met those of her husband, and the good morning kiss threatened to deepen before he pulled away.

"Should I call room service?"

"Not hungry. Come back here," she protested as he stepped out of the covers.

"We don't want to miss our flight," Chuck explained. "Hawaii awaits. Sun. Sand. Goofy drinks inside hollowed-out coconuts. Hula dancing." Chuck did his best to imitate a hula dancer, which wasn't very good. Sarah giggled, though she still refused to leave the bed.

"C'mon. You told me you wanted to do some non-mission related travel."

"Sure, tomorrow. Today, stay here. It's safer. I can protect you."

"From what? What kind of dangers are you expecting in Hawaii?"

"Hurricanes. Sunburn. Homicidal…toucans."

"Ok, sleepy head." Chuck stepped into the bathroom for a moment. After he returned, he asked, "Aren't you forgetting? You don't need to protect me any more."

"Of course I do. I'm your protector, remember? You said so in your vows. Somewhere. I think."

Chuck gave her a look of concern. "You aren't having second thoughts about the CIA, are you?"

"No. You having second thoughts about leaving this bed?"

"I'm trying to fight them off. So you're sure you won't miss it?"

Sarah shrugged. "Maybe some times. How about you?"

"I dunno. It's not like I could do much without an Intersect. Unless they want me to use the one they made from you." Chuck considered the possibilities of this for a moment, before finally shaking his head. "Nah. Too weird."

"You and I both know that you were more than the Intersect, Chuck. And the CIA will eventually appreciate what the two of us meant to them. Some day."

"Maybe so. But today, we go to Hawaii."

Chuck walked over to the nightstand to retrieve his watch. In doing so he inched a bit too close to the bed, and a strong hand grabbed him and pulled him back on the bed. One glance at the smoldering look on Sarah's face was all it took to convince him.

"We can take a later flight."

End

* * *

_And there it is, the finale of 'Scenes from a Wedding.' I've really had fun writing this story, even though I didn't originally plan for it to be more than a goofy one-shot about General Beckman. With a story like this, one definitely feels more fond of some parts than others (personally, my favorites are the Casey and Morgan chapters, and my least favorite are the Carina and Jack Burton chapters)._

_After a while, I realized that with all of the intercutting story lines, shifts in time and point-of-view that this story was actually kind of influenced by 'Lost.' Of course, that show was devoted to solving mysteries about the meaning of life. This was about solving the mystery of "Who requested Wang Chung?"_

_I hope everybody enjoyed this story, and weren't too frustrated by the long gaps between chapter updates. Please, review away, and tell me what you did like, and what you didn't._


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